The Prodigal Sons: A Tale of the Lost Primarchs
by TequilaTheHun
Summary: "The second and eleventh plinths had been vacant for a long time. No one ever spoke of those two absent brothers. Their separate tragedies had seemed like aberrations. Had they, in fact, been warnings that no one had heeded?" - Primarch Rogal Dorn.
1. A Gift From the Machine God

_The Forge World of Portentia had, as always, stood alone. The wisest of the Tech Priests had discerned that they had been separated from the wider galaxy by some cosmological disturbance, 'storms' that had cut off all contact with any world beyond the Larusian System._

 _The Tech Priests, rulers of the great Manufactorums and disciples of the Machine God who strove to know the divine by searching for knowledge, had long been divided. The prevailing party, led by the Fabricator-General, were known as the Orationes._

 _Formed from staunch traditionalists, the Orationes represented the traditional way of thinking among the Tech Priests. They believed that the Machine God favoured those who spent their days in prayer and silent reflection, for the secrets of the universe can only be discovered through private contemplation._

 _Another group, formed from so-called 'new paradigm' members of the Cult Mechanicus, became known as the Exploratores. They believed that, in order to acquire knowledge and properly serve the Omnissiah, one must be willing to leave the confines of their existence and venture out into the unknown in search of new experiences. They argued that one must also be willing to go beyond their own preconceptions and explore varying paths of technological and scientific development. The Exploratores were few, but over time, their numbers steadily grew._

 _These two groups of Tech Priests often clashed with religious sermons and bolters alike. Their disagreement led to the Portentian Schism, a period of several centuries where the planet's surface became littered with the bloodied corpses of Skitarii and the ruined husks of Titans and Servitors alike._

 _Both sides saw themselves in the right, and thousands were slain in the religious fervor. Those not aligned with the Exploratores or the Orationes did not take any sides; they were independent, and wanted nothing to do with the bloodshed while continuing to honour the Machine God in their great forges._

 _This way of life continued for untold decades, with neither side showing any indication of surrender. But then, one day, amidst a field of the dead and broken, a lone Tech Priest happened upon a discovery that would change everything…_

* * *

Archmagos Lucratio Moran strode through the battlefield, surveying the carnage with his ocular implants, which shined like two aquamarine orbs in the night. They had won the Third Battle of Harshor, but only just.

The vast, expansive plain that stretched across the middle of Portentia's second continent, the Harshor plains had been the sight of several battles in the Schism. This day's battle had been the worst. Thousands of corpses stretched across the plain, wetting the dry, brown land with blood and oil. Atop the fallen Skitarii and Servitors lay the remains of several Titans, the god-machines of the Cult Mechanicus seen as the very embodiment of the Machine God. Their great hulls were blasted apart and rent asunder, having been felled at great cost of lives on both sides.

Lucratio scoffed at the carnage before him. The Orationes had always been the predominant party among the Tech Priests of Portentia, but their dominance was rapidly coming to an end. The Exploratores were gaining momentum every day, and logic told the Archmagos that they would find victory one day.

If only the Fabricator-General and the 'old paradigm' Tech Priests could understand that. And yet, they stubbornly refused, opting to remain on their thrones instead of recognizing progress.

Flanking Lucratio were a pair of Praetorian Servitors, massive cybernetic constructs fashioned from large, vat-grown organic bodies fused into towering mechanical combat platforms. They were potent weapons of war, utilized exclusively for the protection of senior Tech Priests and the most important temples of Portentia.

The pair that accompanied the Archmagos rolled across the corpse-strewn battlefield on large tank treads, bearing deadly autocannons that replaced their arms.

The Tech Priest saw a Skitarii, bearing the symbol of the hooded mechanical skull of the Orationes, reaching out to him. His legs had been blasted off, and he couldn't move. The enemy soldier's head was summarily crushed by one of the Praetorians' treads, and the pair of Servitors proceeded to unleash bursts from their autocannons at fleeing enemy Skitarii.

The ground quaked at Lucratio's feet from the thunderous steps of the Exploratores Titans of Legio Lex. The colossal avatars of the Machine God were accompanied by scores of Skitarii and Secutarii. All of them scoured the remains for surviving enemies.

In this war, mercy was not a luxury, but a liability.

Suddenly, there was a mighty boom in the sky. Lucratio, along with his victorious forces, looked upwards and saw the black, polluted clouds split open as an object fell from the sky. It was wreathed in fiery crimson as it plummeted towards the earth, and Lucratio's implanted logic circuits predicted that it would strike the ground three hundred metres ahead.

"Target identified" one of the Praetorian Servitors stated in its garbled, electronic voice before it and its partner unleashed a barrage from their autocannons at the falling object.

Lucratio zoomed in with his ocular implants, attempting to discern the object's nature when he was suddenly struck with an acute feeling of destiny. The Archmagos felt, with every part of his flesh and implanted tech that this object would alter the fate of Portentia forevermore. Guided by this feeling, he quickly barked an order to the Praetorians in Lingua-Technis, and they promptly ceased firing.

The object did not take long to reach the ground, striking with a mighty crash and pulverizing a large cluster of corpses and forming cracks in the ground.

Lucratio, accompanied as always by the Praetorians, made his way towards the object. When he finally did, he beheld the large crater that had been formed by the crash. The object lay in the centre, and the Tech Priest could now see that it was a large metal capsule with a lid on the front. Above the lid was engraved the numeral II.

He descended into the crater and proceeded to remove the lid with the aid of his three Mechadendrites. Upon gazing inside, he froze.

Within the capsule was an infant child, but it was far from ordinary. The child was perfectly unharmed from the violent impact; in fact, it looked up at Lucratio with shining silver eyes, bearing a curious expression on its face.

The veteran Tech Priest, disciple of the Machine God for the last century and champion of science and reason, found actual tears running down his face. This child was just perfect in every way, and the Archmagos was utterly captivated by it. With a gentleness normally reserved for the most revered machines, he reached in and scooped up the infant.

The child smiled as he held it, and it reached out to grasp the tip of one of his Mechadendrites. It appeared to be studying it, and the Tech Priest truly smiled for the first time in his life.

* * *

Welcome, everyone, to my latest fic!

I am currently in a massive Warhammer phase, and the chance to explore the Lost Primarchs was just too good to pass up. This story was partially inspired by The Lost Primarchs, a phenomenal fanfic written by dorawarrior which I HIGHLY suggest you all read (it's actually a fantastic read).

Please review and favourite!


	2. The Falling Star

_On the world of Makandrascar, the people lived in eternal darkness._

 _Among the ancient legends, it was said that the sky was once bright, and the sun shone down with comforting warmth. That was not the case; today, everyone lived and died under the blackness. Old crones would tell stories to curious children in front of crackling fires of the first Year of Suffering._

 _That was the first time the Abominations appeared._

 _Bursting forth from swirling tempests of pink energy, the Abominations were foul, disgusting creatures dredged from the depth of nightmare to haunt the living. People were butchered in the streets, their limbs hacked into pieces by flaming blades, children were dragged out of their homes and consumed in front of their parents, and the dead were used in horrific, black rituals that befouled the very air._

 _Just as all hope seemed lost, however, the Abominations left. They returned through their portals of swirling pink and abandoned the world of Makandrascar._

 _The people rejoiced, believing their nightmare to finally be over. In the years after the Year of Suffering, as it came to be known, countless children were born who began to show signs of possessing strange powers. They were the first of The Gifted, a group blessed by the gods themselves who could strike down their enemies with a thought, start fires with a snap of their fingers, and foretell the future._

 _Fifteen years had passed since the Year of Suffering. The sky was forever black, but the people lived their lives, as they always had, knowing peace and comfort. But, to their horror, the Abominations once more returned through their portals, carving a path of destruction and depravity through every village on the planet._

 _Only this time, the fiends would not go unopposed._

 _The Gifted, those blessed few with the power to change the world, began to furiously oppose the Abominations, hurling bolts of energy and making the ground quake. Most of them perished as the second Year of Suffering dragged on, but by its end, 100 of The Gifted stood victorious._

 _They were hailed as heroes by the people and seen as heralds of the gods themselves. That group of 100 survivors were from then on known as 'The Victorious', and they assumed leadership over their people._

 _Each of them claimed a piece of land as their personal fiefdom; every villager within was subject to their rule, for The Gifted had the foresight and power to guide them. Every child born with The Gift was, without exception, taken from their families and raised with the teachings of the lords of The Victorious._

 _Cabals of sorcerers lorded over the land from strongholds fashioned from innumerable materials. They were the absolute rulers of their people. Every fifteen years, when another Year of Suffering would commence, it was they who fended off the Abominations. This continued for years uncounted; rich, powerful dynasties of sorcerers, tracing their lineage to one of The Victorious, plied their craft in towers of marble or fortresses carved from mountains._

 _One day, five years after the 473_ _rd_ _Year of Suffering, the most powerful of the Gifted Lords had a premonition foretelling of a falling star that would bear aloft the hope of all Makandrascar…_

* * *

Captain Yuro Katur urged his steed forward, the constant pounding of its hooves on the dirt road helping him to focus on his mission.

Alongside him rode a dozen warriors under his command, each of them as young as his son would have been. The aged veteran only saw fresh, clean-faced boys when he looked at them, firmly believing that none of them would live to be his age.

Despite the protection provided by each of the Gifted Lords, the Years of Suffering always cost many lives before they ended. Yuro had watched both of his brothers, a sister, and his parents torn to pieces by Abominations, their blood drunk like wine and their bones crushed like so much kindling. Five decades of living had taught him that life consisted only of pain; all joy and happiness were in the imaginations of children. It was soldiers like him that knew the true measure of the world.

"We are on the right path. I can feel it."

The Captain turned to his right and looked at the robed form of Antonar, one of Lord Tenebrius' apprentices. The sorcerer's charcoal robes concealed his body, just as his white porcelain mask hid his face.

"My lord, are you certain?" Yuro asked, keeping a wary gaze on the forest around them. "We have been traveling along this path for two days now."

The sorcerer turned to look at him, and the Captain was unsettled at how he couldn't figure the other man's expression behind that mask. "My master's vision spoke of the Dread Forest, and how the shooting star would strike when the warrior weeps."

"As you say, my lord" Captain Yuro said, returning his gaze forward.

The Dread Forest, a vast expanse of twisted, gnarled trees at the border of Lord Tenebrius' realm, had long been a fell place. At the end of each Year of Suffering, the Abominations would return to their accursed realm through their portals, but a very few would remain to pester the people in the intervening years. They had come to congregate in the Dread Forest, weakened but no less savage.

Suddenly, emerging like a nightmare from the shadowed trees was a scaled monstrosity with a long tongue that protruded from its slobbering mouth and nine bulbous eyes.

"Draw your swords!" the Captain barked, swiftly drawing his weapon as the Abomination struck. With claws longer than his forearm, it decapitated one of the warriors in the time it had taken to blink. The lad's body slumped before sliding off of its saddle.

The horses reared back in terror, whinnying as they were confronted by the horrid beast. Before it could strike again, however, Antonar stretched out his hand and blasted it with a bolt of blue energy. It struck the creature's head, which exploded and sprayed foul, yellow blood on the Captain's armour.

Just as the Abomination was felled, five more appeared out of the forest, surrounding the group with the obvious intent to attack.

Yuro looked down at the corpse of the slain warrior, at the bloody stump of his neck. The image summoned forth vivid images of when his father had died, cut down by an Abomination. The memory was so fresh, as if it had happened just yesterday, and the Captain's heart ached. The thought of his father caused a single hot tear to streak down his cheek.

There was a great boom in the sky, and all looked upwards. The source was quickly evident: something was streaking towards them, leaving a fiery trail as it came at them.

"The shooting star!" Antonar cried, sounding quite pleased.

"The shooting star…" Yuro repeated, his mouth agape as he watched it landed ahead of them, completely pulverizing one of the Abominations and causing the others to scatter.

"Quickly! We must claim the star!"

Shaking his head, Yuro mustered his courage and urged his steed forward. As they raced towards the star, he could see a pair of Abominations laying their foul, deformed hands on it. As they neared it, the aged Captain could tell that the star was, in fact, a large metallic cylinder with a lid. The Abominations eagerly tore at it with their claws, eager to discover its contents. Just as Yuro and the others approached, the lid was thrown open.

The monstrosities instantly changed their demeanor, falling back and covering their eyes. One of them hissed in anger and pain, and the Captain thought he heard the word "Anathema" uttered by the other one.

With the Abominations distracted, it was a simple task for the warriors and Gifted Lord to dispatch them. Once they were dead, the thirteen men dismounted and slowly approached the cylinder. Yuro could see the numeral XI engraved on the top, and when he peered inside, the wind rushed out of his lungs.

Within the cylinder was a child. It was nothing more than an infant, and yet it radiated such majesty that it seemed to glow with golden light. The aged veteran had marveled at the birth of his son, but this child was far more beautiful, far more perfect in every way. His eyes, so accustomed to the eternal darkness, ached to look at the infant, but he barely registered the pain.

Antonar gingerly reached into the cylinder and took the infant out into the open. It slept peacefully, appearing to be blissfully unaware of how it had been moments from being devoured.

Yuro and the others knelt before the Gifted Lord as he held the child. "Behold! The hope of all Makandrascar!"

* * *

Hope you enjoy this chapter.

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	3. Lessons

Archmagos Lucratio Moran had devoted his entire life to studying the mysteries of the universe in an effort to experience divinity. The Machine God blessed those brave enough to explore and discover all facets of knowledge, no matter if they were invented or discovered, which he and his allies firmly believed.

He had communed with the sacred Machine Spirits of simple bolters to the ancient entities within the mighty Titan god-machines and the Ordinates vehicles of war. All were amazing and miraculous in their own way, a refracted piece of universal knowledge.

The child that had fallen from the sky was truly the most incredible discovery of his life.

After securing the victory of the Third Battle of Harshor, the Archmagos had taken the child to Manufactorum Tarsis, the second largest manufacturing centre on the planet and the bastion of the Exploratores. Protected by a vast expanse of the most advanced weapons technology, in addition to several Skitarii Macroclades and Titans of the Legio Lex, the Manufactorum was one of the most secure locations on all of Portentia.

Upon laying eyes on the infant, the various Skitarii and Tech Priests began uttering prayers to the Machine God, utterly captivated by the infant who had fallen from the sky.

Lucratio had taken it to the Genetors, Tech Priests who specialized in genetics and the biological sciences. With the greatest care, the infant was subjected to a series of tests over the course of three days. Its physical perfection was just as obvious upon close inspection, but when they examined its genetic structure, the Genetors fell to their knees and spouted litanies of praise to the Machine God. The infant's genes were far beyond that of any human; they were nearly perfect in every way, and it was the conclusion of the Genetors that some higher power had crafted them.

This revelation only reinforced the notion that the child was a blessing from the Machine God Himself. News quickly spread amongst the Exploratores, renewing their belief that their cause was destined to win the Schism.

Lucratio took it upon himself to raise the child, intending to groom him as a future champion of the Exploratores.

He named it Kaius Caesarius, after a great military leader from the most ancient Mechanicum legends dating back to Mankind's beginning.

It quickly became evident that Kaius' genetically engineered origins granted him gifts beyond anything a normal man, or even the mechanically enhanced Tech Priests, might achieve. He grew at an astounding rate, and by the time he was two years old, he was as large as boys more than ten years his senior. In addition to the physical improvements, his mental faculties were equally stupendous; after being introduced to the basic tenets of the Cult Mechanicus, he began offering astounding insights into the tenets of belief for Lucratio and his brothers. Kaius displayed the wisdom of a veteran Tech Priest at such an early age, and he was clearly destined for greatness.

The veteran Archmagos also privately noted the boy's inquisitive nature. He was quick to ask all sorts of questions about everything from religious ideology to the workings of the Mechanicus' various technologies. Kaius was eager to attain knowledge, and in that way, he was the perfect member of the Exploratores.

* * *

Kaius Caesarius calmly strode across the walkway, running his hand along the cool metal railing. Walking ahead of him was Fabricator-General Lucratio Moran, his tutor and the recognized leader of the Exploratores.

He had been unanimously voted into the role by the other high-ranking Tech Priests of the group as a deliberate move in protest of the closed-minded Orationes. His wisdom, passion, and battlefield experience meant that he was the perfect, and only, candidate.

The aged Tech Priest was, as always, garbed in a long, rust-coloured robe with the hood drawn. Protruding from his back were five Mechadendrites, while the majority of his body had been implanted or replaced by technology. He was now a paragon of knowledge, coming that much closer to the Machine God with every implantation.

For his part, Kaius was dressed in black trousers, black boots, and a rust-coloured jacket. His chest was bare, showing the thick muscles that were growing and developing every day. He had short-cropped silver hair, and his eyes shone a bright silver.

He was only two years old, and yet he stood only a head shorter than his mentor, as well as matching the height of children ten years his senior.

He knew that he was different; all the other Tech Priests and soldiers treated him with the utmost respect, bowing whenever he was near. The young Kaius understood that his genes were what allowed for his astounding growth and his great wisdom. He did not mind being treated as such. After all, he had been personally chosen by the Machine God and designed for greatness.

Kaius and Lucratio were hundreds of feet above the ground, near the top of one of the mighty forging chambers of Manufactorum Tarsis. Below them was a thick cloud of smoke and exhaust, and only Servitors or heavily modified Tech Priests could survive down there.

Within the massive chamber, which was half a kilometre in length and width, the innumerable Servitors and cybernetic workers laboured on the construction of a _Warlord_ -Class Titan, a colossal engine of battle meant to deal death and destruction on the Exploratores' enemies.

"Why do we venerate the Machine Spirits, Kaius?" Lucratio asked in his electronic, filtered voice as he came to a stop.

Questions such as these had often been how the young man's lessons had begun. They had been difficult at first, but as time went on, Kaius came to understand their complexities, and in that way, he made steps along the Quest for Knowledge, the sacred journey to know the divine. "They are extensions of the Machine God", he answered after a moment's consideration, "minute facets of His eternal wisdom that control the functions of all technology."

Lucratio, who had turned to look at him, nodded his head. Kaius noted how the Tech Priest's ocular implants shined like pale blue orbs, while the Vox-grill that had replaced his mouth idly glowed with the same blue light.

Kaius did not possess any such implants, despite the respect afforded to him by the members of the Exploratores. His insights into technology and the beliefs of the cult earned him great admiration, but thus far he had not received the implants that all Tech Priests had received. Lucratio had explained the reasoning to him once: they were all loath to tamper with his genetic perfection. How could they seek to improve that which had been crafted by the Machine God Himself? For that reason, Kaius had not received any such Mechadendrites, Electoos, or cybernetic limbs.

"Precisely" he said, sounding pleased as the lights danced on the grill. He gestured with a metallic hand to the Titan being constructed below. "The Machine Spirit is a holy and blessed entity. It represents knowledge itself, and is thus the chosen of the Machine God. The spirit at the heart of a mighty Titan, such as this one, and that of a mere bolter are one and the same. They are not lessened by the technology they govern, for all are sacred to the Mechanicum."

The lesson continued for several hours, and once it was completed, Lucratio brought Kaius to a chamber located within one of the eastern quadrants of Manufactorum Tarsis.

A Tech Priest, one of relatively low rank as evidenced by his limited implants, worked with a dozen Servitors as he attended to a battle tank. The vehicle appeared fine on the outside, but as Kaius and Lucratio silently observed, they saw that it refused to come alive. Something was wrong with its Machine Spirit, and that was what the Tech Priest was working to solve.

"Enginseer Markovius" Lucratio said, gesturing with a metallic hand. "Step forward."

Markovius did as commanded, standing up from his work and walking towards the pair. He stopped several paces away and bowed in respect. "Fabricator-General. Kaius" he said, his voice as-yet unaltered by tech.

Lucratio clasped his hands together, concealing them in the rust-coloured sleeves of his robe. "How goes your work?"

The Enginseer turned to look at the tank, a sullen expression on his face. "Not well, I am afraid. This tank's Machine Spirit refuses to awaken. I have entreated it with every prayer and offering that I know, but it is not moved."

The Fabricator-General nodded, staring at the vehicle for a moment. He then turned to look down at his protégé. "Kaius, I would like you to commune with the Machine Spirit."

The young man looked up at his mentor, his brow furrowed in confusion. "Are you certain, Fabricator-General?"

"I am. Let us see if you can aid the Enginseer in his work."

Kaius looked at the young Tech Priest, then at the tank. The Servitors stood out of the way, silently awaiting for orders from their masters. The young man took a deep breath, then walked over to the tank. It was easily twice his height, but he didn't let it intimidate him. He reached out and touched it, feeling the cool metal. Running it along the tank's side, he reached out with his senses, attempting to commune with the Machine Spirit.

There was no such luck, and so he decided to coax it back to life. He motioned to one of the Servitors, who approached and held out a tray of tools.

Kaius grabbed one of them, then proceeded to climb onto the tank. He recited the sacred words used to commune with Machine Spirits, attempting to entice it back to life. With no success, he climbed into the tank, examining each of the control circuits and neural interfaces. Just as he was about to climb back out, he sensed that something was wrong with the spirit; it had experienced a recent trauma. He stuck his head outside and said "Enginseer Markovius, was this tank damaged in battle?"

The young Tech Priest took a step forward and said "Yes. During the Battle of Manufactorum Laius, it was struck with a missile. I have only just now repaired those damaged systems."

Kaius gestured to a pair of Servitors, and they held out the tools he needed. "This tank's Machine Spirit is still scarred by the missile; there might even be damage in the logic circuits."

The Enginseer's shoulders slumped in defeat. "Then it is lost to us. Forgive me, Fabricator-General. I shall personally oversee the Rites of Internment."

"No, that won't be necessary" Kaius interjected, feeling a surge of energy within himself. He climbed back into the tank, tools in hand, and got to work. With the utmost respect, he recited prayers that invoked the Machine God's authority in order to restore the spirit within the tank. Eventually, he finished working on it. Once he set the tools down, he placed a hand on the logic circuits. "By the will of the Machine God, I bid thee to rise."

The circuits came alive.

Smiling at his success, Kaius said "May His blessings bring you good fortune, Holy One." He then climbed out of the tank, greeted by the astonished expression of the Enginseer and the silent pleasure of Lucratio.

"That… that was incredible!" Markovius exclaimed. "Not even the most senior Tech Priest could have coaxed such a fallen Machine Spirit back to life! You are truly blessed by the Machine God Himself!"

Kaius could only smile, basking in his success and the approving gaze of his mentor.

After finishing with Enginseer Markovius, Lucratio led Kaius through more of Manufactorum Tarsis. Eventually, they arrived at a chamber with a large hololith projector.

The Fabricator-General came to stand in front of it, and Kaius stood opposite his mentor. The veteran Tech Priest began working the controls with his hands as well as one of his Mechadendrites. The projector came to life, and a pale blue light convalesced into an image of Portentia. The Forge World was displayed in near perfect detail, with over 80 percent covered by manufacturing and military infrastructure. The parts of the planet not covered consisted of dry, blasted plains that had served as battlegrounds between the Exploratores and Orationes and toxic, polluted seas.

Certain Manufactorums were represented by a glyph showing a hooded mechanical skull, the symbol of the Orationes. They controlled a great deal of the planet, but not all of it.

A significant chunk was represented by a glyph showing a mechanical skull looking upwards, the symbol of the Exploratores. While not as large as their enemy, their territory represented a large portion of the planet, and their strength was growing every year.

Those Manufactorums not aligned with either faction did not have a glyph, as they had chosen to stay out of the conflict.

"Tell me Kaius" Lucratio began, leaning on the projector. "What do you see?"

The boy looked at the projected image, examining its every aspect and studying every little detail within seconds. "I see the dominance of the old way being threatened by the new. Those in power still cling to what they know, not wanting to risk exploring past their limitations and discover what the universe has to offer. Our movement makes new advances every day because we represent progress. We can't allow ourselves to be trapped in the past forever, and the Orationes are incapable of understanding this."

For a moment, his mentor said nothing. Then, he worked at the projector's controls. The image of Portentia dissolved into an amorphous light that danced and twinkled as it reformed itself into the image of a Tech Priest, one who was obviously very highly placed in the hierarchy, given his extensive implants.

"Fabricator-General Horatior Flaccum refuses to recognize the march towards progress. He believes that prayer and silent contemplation are the paths to discovery, but that is not true. The Quest for Knowledge represents everything, and if we are to study the knowledge of the universe, we cannot remain trapped here forever, rusting away like old and broken bits of tech."

Kaius nodded, having learned all this in his lessons.

"Horatior Flaccum represents the past, and he is also the source of the Orationes' war effort. Without him, they would be leaderless, flailing about like a Titan without its Princeps." He held up a metallic finger and, looking Kaius directly in the eyes, said "Remember Kaius: an enemy is never truly defeated until their leader is broken and shown to be weak."

"I understand."

* * *

Well, here's the next chapter. At this point, I'm starting to create character and plant the seeds of stuff that will flower later on. This bit was a bit tricky to write, as I'm not entirely sure what Mechanicus prayers are supposed to look like in some contexts, so I purposefully left the language vague so as to help make Kaius' skills that much more impressive.

Please review and favourite!


	4. Undergoing the Rite

The infant that had come from the falling star was quickly spirited out of the Dread Forest. Antonar, Captain Yuro, and the eleven warriors returned to the Iron Hold, the mighty fortress of Lord Tenebrius, greatest of The Gifted.

Legend held that the fortress had once been a chariot of Kumar, the God of War, and that, after it had been struck down in battle, he had fashioned it into the greatest of all fortresses.

The Iron Hold was a bastion of strength, and it was the centre of Lord Tenebrius' rule. Captain Yuro had not been allowed into his lord's sanctum when Antonar had delivered the child. All he knew was that, immediately afterwards, he declared the child to be a deliverance from the gods.

He named it Rhokan, an old Makandrascari word which meant 'light'. Rhokan was the newest apprentice for the mighty lord, the latest in a long line of Gifted Lords that now ruled their own realms subservient to Tenebrius.

The years of peace continued, and Rhokan's majesty only grew and grew as he aged. He never cried, never made a noise; it became obvious that he could not speak at all.

Yuro and all those within the Iron Hold were in awe of his growth. At one year old, he was as large as children in their tenth year, and though he couldn't speak, it was clear that he was possessed of wisdom and intelligence far beyond his years. As well as growing physically, Rhokan also grew in magnificence. He perpetually seemed to glow with golden light, as if his body was struggling to contain the titanic power within, and all those within his presence felt like they were basking in the light of the sun. Such a thing was inconceivable for the people of Makandrascar, who lived in perpetual shadow. His eyes were another notable feature, for no matter how hard one stared, it was impossible to identify their colour, for they seemed to shift every second.

However, the most important part of his growth, at least to Lord Tenebrius, was that of his psychic powers.

From even infancy, Rhokan's power manifested itself; he was moving objects with his mind before he could walk, and at one year old, he could ignite fires and read the minds of others. He played with the elements like a normal child would play with wooden toys, and he successfully fashioned a truly wondrous sword with only his mind. There was no limit to what he could do, and his power grew almost daily.

* * *

Rhokan looked to the left and right, making sure that the corridor was empty. It was, and he quickly opened the door and entered the library.

Upon closing the door, he smiled as he beheld the collection.

His master, Lord Tenebrius, was the greatest Gifted Lord on Makandrascar, and he had spent over a century gathering a massive collection of tomes. The library was one of the larger rooms within the Iron Hold, and its walls were covered with shelves laden with all sorts of books; recorded histories of Makandrascar, biographies of several Gifted Lords, and manuals containing instructions on various schools of psychic abilities.

It was the latter category that interested him the most.

The two year-old walked over to one of the wall-spanning shelves, craning his neck as he looked for any books that would interest him. He was dressed in simple black pants, boots, and shirt, while his hair reached down to his ears. He could change its colour as often as he liked, and right now, it was a shimmering crimson.

Rhokan finally found some books that contained the information he sought. He smiled, and pulled with his hand, pulling all three of them out of their shelves. He made them float over to a nearby table.

The boy had always known that he was different. Lord Tenebrius told him every day that he was special, that he was destined for great things. All the other children in the Iron Hold, though they were the same age as him as well as possessing The Gift, were both smaller and less powerful. He was easily taller than all of them. Some of them were afraid of Rhokan, while others tried to tease him or bully him.

None of it mattered to him; compared to him, they were lesser, so why should he care what they thought?

As the books came to settle on the table, each of them opened to specific pages. Rhokan sat down in a wooden chair and began reading.

The first book had opened to a page detailing various telekinetic abilities. He decided to try one, and looked at a nearby chair. Stretching out with his hands, he used his power to slowly crush it, as one would crush a leaf. The chair quickly buckled, and it was crumpled into a ball the size of Rhokan's fist.

He smiled, moving onto the second book. This one spoke of a spell that would create a bright flash of light.

After reading the instructions, Rhokan decided to try it. His first attempt, which would have been otherwise successful, only produced a flame. The spell was meant to cast only pure light, not fire. After re-reading the page, he tried again. Another flame, but it was much brighter than the last. He was getting closer. The boy concentrated, focusing his energy into casting this one spell. He took several breaths, cleared his mind, and then extended his hand.

A white light burst into being, illuminating the entire library. It was only a pale imitation of the golden light that naturally radiated from his body, but it was still an accomplishment.

Suddenly, the library door opened.

Rhokan lowered his hand, and the light was snuffed out. He turned and saw Yuro Katur entering. The man was in his sixties, and his grey hair and grizzled features lent themselves to showing his age. A former Captain of the army, he had recently been raised to the rank of Castellan of Iron Hold as a reward for his many years of service. He was responsible for overseeing the staff and soldiery in the fortress, and was the left hand of Lord Tenebrius.

Rhokan always liked him. On the outside, he was stern and uncaring, but on the inside he was a good man who had lost much to the Abominations.

The Castellan scanned the library, and after spotting Rhokan, he bore a distinct look of relief on his face. "There you are, my lord" he said as he approached. "When I did not find you in your room, I became worried. Must you sneak off to the library every night?"

Rhokan looked up at him, an innocent expression on his face.

The older man furrowed his brow. "How did you get past the guards?"

Rhokan shrugged.

The Castellan tried to maintain a stern expression, but the boy saw the corners of his lips curling into a slight grin of amusement. He placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, then said "Come along. Lord Tenebrius has requested your presence." Rhokan nodded, and Yuro proceeded to guide him through the Iron Hold. In all honesty, the boy could have easily found his way on his own, but he enjoyed the company.

The Iron Hold was a vast, impregnable fortress, built from the chariot of the god of war himself. Its thick metal walls had never been breached, and it had been the seat of Lord Tenebrius' power for almost two centuries now.

The pair passed by countless servants, all of whom bowed before Rhokan. They also passed by many of the Shadow Guard, the elite soldiers whose only purpose in life was to protect the person of Lord Tenebrius and his apprentices. Garbed in black armour and wielding fearsome spears crafted with The Gift, they were the finest protection any Gifted Lord could ask for. As Rhokan and Yuro passed them by, they pounded their fists over their hearts and bowed their heads in respect.

Eventually, after some minutes of walking, they arrived in the Grand Audience Chamber. It was a vast space, with a high ceiling from which hung chandeliers fashioned from the finest crystals. A series of tapestries were displayed on the walls, showing the countless victories of Lord Tenebrius and his followers against the Abominations during the Years of Suffering. A blood-red carpet ran from the large entrance all the way to the stylish throne atop a raised dais.

It was there that Lord Tenebrius sat. His flowing charcoal robes concealed his form, and his master-crafted porcelain mask covered his face. In his hand was his ancient staff, carved from the black wood of an Ebon Tree in the heart of the Dread Forest.

The Gifted Lord, mightiest of his kind still living, had protected and guided his realm for 180 years, his power second to none. Of all the lords of Makandrascar, Rhokan was glad that he was his teacher.

Lord Tenebrius stood from his throne, passing his staff to Antonar, his second greatest apprentice, who stood beside the throne. If Yuro was Tenebrius' left hand, then Antonar was his right hand.

Yuro Katur gently pushed the boy ahead before prostrating himself. "My lord, as you requested, I have brought Rhokan before you."

"Thank you, Castellan" Lord Tenebrius said. His voice gave no hint of his age, sounding full of vigour and strength. "You may leave, with my gratitude." As Yuro departed, the Gifted Lord held his arms wide and said "My dear Rhokan. I hear that you have been infiltrating the library at night, without alerting the guards, no less."

Rhokan nodded, having no reason to fear punishment.

Lord Tenebrius chuckled and gripped the boy's shoulders. Though the lord was tall, his latest student came up to his chest. "Well done. When I was your age, my master would never let me out of his sight. I spent my days being carted off from one end of the realm to another, wishing with all my might that I were somewhere else. Unfortunately, I had no such luck, but you are talented enough to evade the notice of my personal guard. I also commend you on having such a zealous desire for knowledge. It will serve you well, for knowledge is the greatest strength we can acquire."

Rhokan listened intently. With every lesson, with every nightly visit to the library, his knowledge and ability grew and grew. He wanted as much of both as he could get.

Lord Tenebrius guided him over to one of the tapestries on the wall. "Look at this" he said, pointing to it.

It depicted a young man, obviously one of The Gifted, facing a large, horrid monstrosity. The Abomination was hunched in appearance, with crimson skin, a pair of large, milky white eyes and an overall savage demeanor.

"This is me fighting a monstrosity in the Dread Forest. I had it commissioned by the finest artisans upon my ascension to lord of this realm. Every Gifted apprentice, going all the way back to The Victorious lord who founded this realm, has ventured into that place and faced an Abomination on his own, bringing back some piece of it as a trophy. It is meant to be a rite of passage, a trial by fire in which the apprentice tests himself against the monsters that plague our world. I believe that you are ready for your rite."

Rhokan nodded, having dreamt of this moment for weeks. That had prompted his nightly visits to the library, as he knew this had been coming.

"What?" a voice demanded. Rhokan and Lord Tenebrius turned, and saw that it was Antonar. The apprentice's mask hid his expression, but the boy could easily sense his anger. "You had me wait until I was thirteen for my rite! Why does he get to go early? He's only a child!"

"I believe Rhokan is ready. Out of all my apprentices, he is the greatest. He came out of the falling star, and he is destined for greatness."

"But—"

"Enough, Antonar!" Lord Tenebrius cut him off. "It is decided. Tomorrow, Rhokan shall undertake his rite of passage, and prove my faith in him."

* * *

Rhokan brought his steed to a halt with a mental command, having ridden without a saddle. The horse came to a stop, then gave a snort as it tried to turn away from the edge of the Dread Forest. Rhokan placed a comforting hand on its neck, channeling a feeling of comfort. It stopped skittering, and proceeded to get down on its knees, allowing him to easily dismount.

He looked up at the sky, at the pink/purple splotch that could be seen in the black sky nearly every fifteen years. The coincidence between its appearance and the Years of Suffering was too great to ignore, and many were quick to identify it as Yorstrum, the Ocean of Endless Depths from which the Abominations were born. The next Year of Suffering was eight years away, and Yorstrum was barely visible.

Beside him, Castellan Yuro dismounted his destrier. The older man gazed at the forest, tightly gripping the handle of his sword with one hand.

Rhokan was dressed in his black pants and shirt, and his hair was currently the same colour. He bore no staff; one of the tasks of the rite, along with defeating an Abomination and bringing back a trophy, was to craft his own staff, one that was his and his alone.

"Looks clear enough" the Castellan muttered after a moment. "But the Abominations are always deeper inside."

Rhokan looked up at him, and he smiled reassuringly as he got down on his knees.

"It's alright, my lord" he said, placing a hand on the boy's shoulder. "I have faith in you. You're the youngest of Lord Tenebrius' apprentices to undergo the rite, and that's because you are stronger than all the others." He glanced at the forest, a wistful expression on his face. "Not everything in this place is evil. We found you in there."

Just then, the boy could sense the older man's feelings. He had suffered so much loss, seen so many loved ones perish in the Years of Suffering.

"I…" he started to say, choking up a little as his eyes started to moisten. "I care for you a great deal. You know that, don't you?"

Rhokan nodded.

Yuro smiled. "You remind me of my boy, Junar. He was your age when… when…" Rhokan touched his cheek, channeling a sense of warmth and comfort. The older man closed his eyes, relishing the feeling. They remained like that for a few moments, and then Rhokan proceeded to enter the Dread Forest.

For what seemed like hours, he wandered amongst the gnarled, blackened trees. The Abominations' very presence affected the world around them, and their extended residence of the forest had evidently corrupted the trees all the way to their core. As time passed, Rhokan could sense more and more Abominations surrounding him, watching and waiting. Occasionally, he would see glowing eyes in the darkness, but whenever he looked at them, the glow faded with an angry hiss. It was almost as if they were purposefully avoiding him. Eventually, he came to a large clearing in what he figured to be the heart of the forest.

It formed a perfect circle, and in the very centre stood a towering construct. It appeared to be a shrine of sorts, but it was crudely fashioned, with countless spikes protruding at obscene angles mounted by skulls. The ground at Rhokan's feet, unlike the grass of the forest, was completely bare, hard earth. The shape of the clearing suggested that even the corrupted forest shrunk back from the blasphemous shrine.

No sooner had he entered the clearing than a group of four Abominations emerged from the shadows of the forest. The light that emanated from his body shone on their scaly, crimson hides, and long, serpentine tongues flickered from between needle teeth. A pair of horns protruded from their heads, and their four-fingered hands sported long, black claws.

Each of the beasts bore long, sharp blades that glowed with baleful fire in one hand, and each appraised Rhokan, likely imagining him to be easy prey.

But as they approached, slobbering in anticipation of a meal, they suddenly recoiled, hissing and swiping the air. " _Anathema!_ " one of them screamed, as if in pain. The word struck a memory in Rhokan, a memory from when he had just been a babe. He could picture it with perfect clarity: encased in a dark place, feeling it shake as he fell to the ground. Moments later, a demonic face had appeared, much like these ones, but as it moved in for the kill, it fell back, uttering one word:

 _Anathema_.

The four Abominations fell back to their shrine, and seemed to gain some measure of strength from it. They advanced once more, licking their blackened lips.

Rhokan chose that moment to strike.

He suddenly thrust both arms forward, and the two creatures on the edge of the group were sent flying. They howled with anger, then both struck a tree with bone-crunching force, cracking the twisted trunks.

The other two, seemingly in response to the spell, flew into a rage, giving bestial roars as they charged. Rhokan stood his ground, keeping calm as he cast a brilliant ball of pure white light. It shone like a miniature sun, and the two Abominations were stopped in their tracks as the light, which was focused and pure, burned the monstrosities. They shrieked in agony as their scaly hides melted like candlewax before completely igniting in crimson flames.

By this point, the other two Abominations charged towards him. With the creatures significantly weaker, Rhokan gathered all of his power, channeling it for a heartbeat before unleashing it on all four of them.

The power lanced forth, striking them with such force that they were annihilated, their bodies and their souls utterly obliterated in an instant. There was a mighty thunderclap, and with a bright flash of energy, the creatures disintegrated.

Rhokan sensed the backlash from their destruction. There was nothing but piles of ash where the Abominations had once stood, and each of their swords lay on the ground, the flames having been snuffed out with the souls of their masters.

He used his power to levitate them in the air. Remembering that he had to bring back a trophy, he set two of them aside. The other two he kept in the air. Holding out his hands, he brought the weapons together. Their now-dulled blades began to glow, lightly at first, but steadily more and more until they were white-hot. The heat, made all the more potent with The Gift, melted them both, and they lost their shape as they became an amorphous blob.

Rhokan had observed the forging of weapons by the Iron Hold's smiths as well as the other apprentices crafting items with The Gift. He had a fair understanding of the art.

Moving his hands in specific gestures, he shaped the superheated blob the way a sculptor would mold a piece of clay. Slowly, it began to take shape, and Rhokan smiled as he came close to finishing. The blob twisted and turned, and once the final shape was there, the boy waved a hand. The white-hot object was instantly cooled, and he beheld it for the first time. However, he could still sense the black taint of the Abominations on it, and he proceeded to cleanse it, removing any corruption.

It gently floated down into his hands, and he smiled. Rhokan had forged the two swords into a staff, one that easily outstripped any other back at the Iron Hold. It was long, about eight feet long, with a black and red colour. The grips were smooth, while the rest of the haft was ridged. Curiously, the very head of the staff was shaped like a black and red eagle clutching an orb in its talons. Rhokan couldn't remember making that decision, and the eagle dredged up vague memories from his past, memories of another place and a kindly face looking down at him…

That was the extent of the memories, and they quickly faded. Still smiling, he stood, his staff in hand. It was just over twice his height, but he had a feeling that it would be perfect once he was fully grown. Levitating the other two swords, he set out to return to Yuro.

Walking through the forest, Rhokan felt satisfied. He had successfully undertaken the rite, and had easily obliterated four Abominations. Not even Lord Tenebrius could boast a similar accolade.

Eventually, he returned to the edge of the Dread Forest, where Yuro sat in front of a small fire. Upon noticing him, the Castellan quickly stood, a relieved expression on his face.

That expression instantly morphed into pure astonishment. The older man's gaze turned to the twin swords floating around him, and then they focused on the tall staff in his hand. Yuro knelt before Rhokan, his head bowed low. "My lord…" he said, almost breathless. After collecting himself, he looked up at Rhokan and, with a smile, said "I knew you could do it."

The pair proceeded to mount their horses and make the return journey to the Iron Hold. After several hours of riding, they returned, and everyone, from the guards to the staff, could not help but stare at the young Gifted Lord.

Rhokan entered the Grand Audience Chamber and laid the two swords at Lord Tenebrius' feet. He then knelt before his master, presenting his staff.

Though he couldn't see the venerable lord's expression from behind his mask, the boy could sense the satisfaction and pride.

He could also sense the anger and jealousy radiating from Antonar.

* * *

Within the fickle tides of the Warp, on a Daemon World that followed an irregular orbit within the Eye of Terror, a demonic Warband carried out a horrific slaughter.

Crimson tides of Bloodletters washed over the surface, butchering countless thousands of Daemons and foul entities of the Warp. They slashed and stabbed with their flaming swords, relishing in the bloodshed as their horde swept over all within sight. None could stand before their raging bloodlust.

This world was populated by Tzeentchian entities, most of them filthy sorcerers. Of all things in creation, it was the Psykers who enraged the Blood God the most.

At the head of this demonic host, a mighty warrior gripped the Greater Daemon of Tzeentch who ruled the world by the throat. The warrior growled, baring his long, sharp fangs in disgust as he summarily executed the sorcerer with his double-headed axe. The other Daemon shrieked a piercing note that could be heard across the world as its essence dissolved, eventually to reform as part of its master's essence. The warrior stood at the head of his Warband, knowing that, as an avatar of the Blood God Himself, he had won a great victory.

Suddenly, a Psychic backlash washed over the Daemon World and struck the warrior, causing him to stumble.

He growled in anger, attempting to search for the cause. It did not originate from the Daemon World itself, but rather from the material world. He realized that it must have come from his Warband's chosen hunting ground near the Eye of Terror, where many Bloodletters and savage Khornate Daemons had chosen to stay. The warrior normally led his soldiers to the hunting ground every eighty years or so, which was nothing more than fifteen mortal years.

Something must have happened, for he felt the loss of four of his Bloodletters. They had not simply perished in body for their souls to return to the nourishing waters of the Warp. They had been completely obliterated, body and soul, snuffed from existence for all eternity.

Only an extremely powerful entity could have accomplished such a feat, and the warrior knew in his bones that it was a Psyker. Its very existence demanded blood and death.

The warrior raised his axe high, letting loose a savage roar that was soon joined by the hordes of his Warband.

* * *

And so, we return to the XI Primarch and his magical adventures. When I say 'magical', I mean that he has magic powers, because this adventure is going to be anything but. When Daemons are involved, nothing is sacred and Murphy's Law is a universal constant.

Please review and favourite!


	5. The Conclave

Rhokan knelt within the dark chamber, his hands on his knees as he meditated.

It had been nearly six years since he had undergone the rite. In that time, his powers had continued to grow, to the point where he was almost positive that he could outstrip Lord Tenebrius in a Psychic battle. Not that he ever would, of course; he owed everything to his master, and not once did he plot to overthrow him, despite the hushed whispers of the servants.

By this point, he was fully grown, despite his young age. Rhokan, while thin, was well-muscled and taller than any man or woman on Makandrascar.

Since his successful rite, he had been given more and more responsibilities by his master, who was no doubt grooming him as his eventual successor. Everyone within Tenebrius' realm voiced their pleasure at the thought; Rhokan was, by far, the wisest and most powerful Gifted Lord in their world's history. It was only natural that he should ascend to rule over them.

However, not everyone thought so highly of him.

Having finished his daily meditation, Rhokan stood. He wore a black shirt and silver pants, and he also wore a black robe with a silver trim overtop them. His face was concealed with a white porcelain mask, as required of all The Gifted within Lord Tenebrius' domain. He wore fingerless gloves, and he held out a hand to the side. His staff floated into his grasp, the black and red colours simultaneously blending into and contrasting the darkness of his personal meditation chamber.

With a mental command, he caused all the torches on the walls to ignite, bathing him in a soft glow of orange light. However, it paled in comparison with the pure golden light that radiated from him as if from the heart of a star.

The people of Makandrascar had gone so long without sunlight of any kind that his awesome glow was a gift in and of itself to their pale complexions.

He stepped out into the hall, wanting to spend some time with his thoughts. He was easily a head or two taller than anyone else he passed; he towered above them, a giant who exuded a magnificent golden light. All stopped and bowed to him as he walked, none of them able to utter so much as a syllable in his presence.

He hardly noticed them, lost as he was in contemplation of his latest premonition.

Among other things, he had a preternatural gift of foresight and prophecy. His visions had become a great boon to the realm. After foreseeing an attack by a rival Gifted Lord, he had joined Lord Tenebrius in repelling the invaders the following month. While all the realms usually avoided each other, often focusing all their efforts inward as well as the Years of Suffering, there were a few instances of conflict. They had saved one of their more populous villages from being overrun, and the people had hailed him as a hero. After having a vision of the earth demolishing a town, he had ordered its people to evacuate with more than enough time.

Each of his visions had helped the people of the realm in countless ways, making Lord Tenebrius' realm predominant over all the others on Makandrascar. Its harvests were always plentiful, its people were protected and happy, and their borders were well-secured against attack. Rhokan had always looked on his gift of foresight as a blessing, and each new vision was a gift.

What he had just seen made him concerned. For the first time in years, he was afraid of what the future might bring.

He had seen blood and fire, the slaughter of innocents and the burning of the world. Something was fast approaching Makandrascar, something that would threaten its ultimate destruction. Of course, his vision could just be a warning of the next Year of Suffering, which was only two months hence. Each of them brought horrific acts of barbarism and wanton bloodshed, so it was possible that Rhokan was merely seeing what it would bring. But there was more to it than that; he felt certain that the next Year of Suffering would be the worst of them all.

He received a sudden flash, showing him the immediate future. He smiled as he came to stop in the midst of two intersecting corridors. He waited for about two minutes before the brief premonition came true.

"My lord."

Rhokan smiled from behind his mask. Castellan Yuro Katur had rounded a corner and was walking towards him, just as the premonition had showed him. He was garbed in his usual dark blue uniform with his sword sheathed at his side; despite not technically being a part of the army anymore, he still dressed as a soldier would. Rhokan thought that his management of the Iron Hold had benefited from his disciplined background.

The Castellan stopped walking and gave a bow. Rhokan inclined his head in respect, having always been fond of the grizzled veteran.

"I waited to come find you until now because I didn't want to interrupt your meditation" the Castellan explained. He was always considerate and kind that way.

Rhokan nodded absentmindedly, returning to his thoughts as he stared into nothingness.

The older man seemed to look at him with a mark of recognition. "Another vision?"

Rhokan nodded.

"Well, every one of them has helped save lives and ensure the prosperity of the realm. I'm sure that this one will be a great benefit. After all, you can't be wrong about these things."

"Oh, no. We wouldn't want that now, would we?" a voice dripping with sarcasm interjected. Yuro and Rhokan turned and saw Antonar approaching.

The man was dressed as he always was, in long black robes and a porcelain mask that echoed the attire of Lord Tenebrius. Even his staff appeared to have been carved in the same fashion as his master's. That was where the similarities ended; where Lord Tenebrius carried himself with an authoritative, but warm, grandfatherly air, Antonar exuded arrogance and a sense of superiority. He thoroughly believed himself to be the destined ruler of the realm, despite the attention Rhokan received.

The other Gifted Lord calmly strode forward, his staff tapping the gleaming metallic floor. Yuro bowed in respect, while Rhokan marginally inclined his head. The other man hardly seemed to notice. "Miraculous be the day that the great and mighty Rhokan, the 'Lord of Fate', is suddenly afflicted by a premonition that proves itself false." He was referring to the title that the people were calling Rhokan due to his countless true visions.

"With respect, Lord Antonar, Lord Rhokan's visions have always—"

"Was I talking to you, Castellan?" Antonar suddenly snapped. "Go scurry off and leave your betters to their business."

Yuro briefly hesitated, glancing at Rhokan, but then he bowed and began to walk away.

Rhokan firmly struck his staff on the floor, and Yuro halted. The veteran officer nervously glanced at both of them, likely wondering if there was going to be a confrontation. The two apprentices stared at each other, silently daring the other to make the first move. Such a confrontation, while probably in Rhokan's favour, would be destructive and wasteful. He was confident in his superiority over the older apprentice, but Antonar was still very powerful with The Gift.

"As much as I would enjoy putting you in your place," Antonar said after several seconds of tense silence, "Lord Tenebrius is expecting us. He's called for a Conclave, what with the next Year of Suffering only months away."

Rhokan already knew all of this information. Between his visions and his close bond with Lord Tenebrius, he was well aware of the Conclave. Antonar was only telling him as another method of mockery.

Without another word, the bitter apprentice turned on his heel and walked past the other two, turning a corner soon after.

Rhokan felt a hand on his shoulder, and looked over at Yuro. "Don't let him get to you, my lord" he said. "He's only jealous because you're clearly the better pick to succeed Lord Tenebrius. Soon enough, he'll be put in his place."

Rhokan smiled at the Castellan's words, grateful as always to have such a caring father-figure. With that, they made their way to the Grand Audience Chamber.

* * *

While the vast throne room was always highly ostentatious, that particular quality was enhanced on this day. The intricate tapestries lining the walls were lit by highly polished braziers, the crystals in the hanging chandeliers glowed with pale violet light, and the beautiful hide of a native Tylox beast was draped over Lord Tenebrius' throne. A long wooden table had been placed in the centre of the chamber, covered with a scarlet tablecloth with jewel-encrusted dinnerware and utensils atop it.

At the head of the table, Lord Tenebrius sat in an ornately carved wooden chair. To his left sat Antonar, directly across from Rhokan's seat at their master's right hand.

Antonar was conversing with another man, who was dressed in black pants and wore a black tunic. No hood covered his head, which was bald, but his mask concealed his face. That was Tarjon, the second oldest of Lord Tenebrius' apprentices. He and Antonar appeared to be old friends based on their familiarity.

All of the apprentices were gathered, each of them apart from Rhokan and Antonar governing their own fiefdoms under the authority of their master.

Beside Tarjon sat Roni and Toni, the twins whose powers and personalities were, by all accounts, joined together to such a degree that they spoke and acted as one.

Across from them sat Vorroth, a young and highly impetuous apprentice who possessed the irritating quality of being successful despite his lack of patience.

And finally, sitting next to Rhokan's seat, was Elliara. The only woman in recent memory to apprentice under Lord Tenebrius, she was quite the accomplished sorceress. Her powers were second to Rhokan and Antonar, and for a time, she had been considered as Lord Tenebrius' successor. Unlike all the others, she wore a suit of silver armour along with her mask. Her territory was located along the coast, and she had to constantly face raids from a rival Gifted Lord. Half of her head was shaved, while shimmering silver hair ran down to her shoulders from the other half.

While Castellan Yuro stood off to the side, Rhokan walked over to his seat, handing his staff to a nearby servant before taking his place. Even while seated, he was much taller than everyone else at the table.

The conversations continued for another minute, but Lord Tenebrius cut them off by standing and holding out his hands for silence. All of the apprentices looked to their master.

"Welcome, my friends" he said, sounding quite pleased. "It has been some time since we have all been gathered together. I am grieved that it is the coming tragedy that binds us together, but such are the times we live in. Nevertheless, it is always a great pleasure to see you all here. Before we carry out the official proceedings, let us dine and take what joy we can."

With that, he clapped his hands twice and sat down. Every servant in the room, including Castellan Yuro, turned so that they faced away from the Gifted Lords.

As was custom, Lord Tenebrius was the first to remove his mask. He placed it on the table, and Rhokan saw his master's face for the first time in his life.

Lord Tenebrius was old, far older than the current generation of Gifted Lords. His power gave him a wellspring of energy that never ran dry, allowing him to rule for almost two hundred years. Despite this, the signs of age were evident. His neatly trimmed beard was almost entirely grey, just like his slicked-back hair, and his face was marked by several lines. Rhokan observed these and a hundred small details with his keen sight in less than the span of a heartbeat. The signs of age were one of the reasons why he believed his master was trying so hard to groom him to succeed the throne.

Lord Tenebrius was dying.

He had spent decades training Antonar, placing all his hopes on his most powerful apprentice. But when Rhokan had arrived in the falling star, he had received an unlooked-for help from the gods. The child who possessed powers magnitudes beyond any other had given him a reason to truly hope for the future. He knew that his time was fast approaching, and he planned for Rhokan to ensure their world's survival.

Once he had removed his mask, the rest of them followed suite, and Rhokan's pale features were revealed for the first time since he had completed the rite. His hair, which was coloured crimson at the moment, was currently arranged in a topknot, but he could have it any way he wanted. Everyone else at the table was pale as fresh winter snow; living under the eternal darkness of Makandrascar, as well as wearing masks, had ensured that.

With all of their masks off, the master and his apprentices began dining on the food before them. A law of the realm dictated that every village was to donate a portion of their harvests to the ruling lord as part of a tithe in exchange for protection during the Years of Suffering, resulting in a bountiful stock.

The banquet was a casual, yet guarded, affair. Each of the apprentices, while having a certain amount of authority in the realm, viewed one another as rivals more often than not. While Rhokan and Antonar were first among equals, each of them were wary of the others.

Rhokan, for his part, did not so much care for the machinations of his peers. His visions had not foretold of any coming betrayal, and he was quite confident in his power.

If anyone attempted to strike at him, directly or otherwise, they would regret it.

Eventually, when the banquet was completed, all eight of them replaced their masks. Lord Tenebrius clapped his hands, and the servants hastily approached the table, taking away the dinnerware and the rest of the food. Once the table was cleared, Lord Tenebrius gestured to Castellan Yuro, who placed a rolled up piece of parchment in front of him. The aged lord waved a hand, and the parchment unfolded itself, extending all the way to the end of the table where Vorroth and the twins sat.

It was a map of Makandrascar, with coloured borders denoting the realms of all the Gifted Lords. Lord Tenebrius' lands ran from the Tharji Mountains, where the Iron Hold was situated, in the north to the Enak Ravine in the south, from a good portion of the eastern coast all the way to the Dread Forest, which appeared to be a black patch of land many miles in diameter.

Within the realm were represented numerous villages, towns, and garrisons, as well as a handful of small fortresses. Those were the residences of the other apprentices, and each one was represented by a magical rune.

"The next Year of Suffering is almost upon us" Lord Tenebrius began, standing up. "In preparation for this time of sorrow, our food stores have been filled, our fortifications reinforced, and our soldiers forged into warriors without peer." He gave each apprentice at the table a long look. "None of it is ever enough. The Abominations are unparalleled in their savagery and depravity. Yet, we have inherited a precious gift from our predecessors. A Gift that allows us to defend ourselves and our people from these monstrosities." He pointed to each of the fortresses and said "When the Year of Suffering begins, each of you will use your power to create the psychic ward which protects the realm from direct invasion, which I will direct from the Iron Hold. It is of the utmost importance that each of you maintain your concentration; if any one of the five nodes is compromised, then the barrier will fail and our people will be as babes to the hungry wolf."

Each of the apprentices nodded gravely, knowing full well what the consequences of failure were.

"Now, while the presence of the barrier protects us from direct invasion, it will not keep out any Abominations that attack from the ground. As always, I shall nominate one of us as Protector to lead my armies against any Abominations that attack. In the past, I have always chosen Antonar for this sacred charge."

At these words, Antonar began to stand, believing that he would, once again, be chosen.

"However, for this Year of Suffering, I choose Rhokan to be the Protector" Lord Tenebrius said.

Everyone was stunned. While no one doubted Rhokan's power, such a sudden decision was unprecedented. Toni and Roni nodded their heads in agreement, and Elliara also silently gave her consent. Vorroth appeared ready to explode, for it was no secret that he had longed to be Protector for years now. Tarjon stared at Rhokan with severe eyes, probably due more to his friendship with Antonar than any personal feelings.

Antonar, not surprisingly, seethed with white-hot rage. Rhokan did not have to have The Gift to sense that the other man was entirely jealous of him.

Lord Tenebrius didn't seem to notice, placing a hand on his shoulder and saying "What do you say, my boy? Are you prepared to lead our forces against our ancient enemy while the rest of us labour to maintain the barrier? Are you prepared to truly test your powers against the Abominations for the first time?"

Rhokan nodded, suddenly reminded of his vision of impending doom. As the flashes of fire and death returned, he looked over at Antonar, once more feeling afraid for the future.

* * *

And so we continue with Rhokan's story. Not much goes on in this chapter (sorry about that), but I can promise you that next chapter is chock full of action and death. Tantalizing, is it not? Stay tuned!

Please review and favourite!


	6. The Year of Suffering

Rhokan mounted his horse, as always riding without a saddle. He was flanked by a group of elite Shadow Guard warriors who would serve as his bodyguards during the Year of Suffering.

Everyone within the courtyard of the Iron Hold appeared grim and tense. The mood was dark, as the thought of facing the ravenous Abominations was enough to darken morale, even with the leadership of Lord Tenebrius and the past successes.

Yorstrum, the Ocean of Endless Depths, could be seen as an angry splotch of colour in the sky, looming overhead and reinforcing the gloom.

Rhokan, for his part, was concerned. This was going to be his first Year of Suffering, and while he was more than confident in his abilities based on how easily he destroyed the creatures he had faced on his rite, the prospect of blood and slaughter was not pleasant. There was also the matter of his vision; deep down in his bones, he knew that this year would bring more destruction than any other, and yet he could not identify why that was.

Lord Tenebrius had sensed his trepidations, but had assured him that they were well prepared for the dangers to come.

A brief neigh from his horse brought him out of his reverie, and he placed a gloved hand on the animal's neck, giving it a sense of comfort and warmth. He looked around the courtyard, noting the thick, psychically enhanced armour and fearsome pikes of his bodyguards. The men who served in the Shadow Guard were among the finest warriors on Makandrascar; their individual identities were wiped clean, and they were slaved to a particular Gifted Lord, psychically attuned to their commands and willing to die for them. These particular warriors had been given to him by Lord Tenebrius upon completion of his rite.

His master was currently standing atop the battlements, addressing the gathered soldiers and people outside the fortress' walls.

"My people", he began, using his powers to enhance his voice, "once again, we are at the doorstep of unspeakable horror. The 474th Year of Suffering is upon us. But do not despair, for I, your lord and master, will defend you from the monsters that come to plague us. Together, my apprentices and I shall cast out the Abominations. You and all those you love will be safe. As always, I have appointed a Protector to lead my armies in battle against those monstrosities who strike at us. Behold, your Protector: Rhokan!"

At this, Rhokan gave a mental command to his steed. The horse dutifully began moving forward, its hooves clicking and clacking over the stone of the courtyard. His bodyguards moved their mounts in sync with his.

The fortress servants bowed to him, while the rest of the Shadow Guard who were staying behind bashed their spears against their shields in salute.

Rhokan's eyes drifted over to Castellan Yuro, who stood by the front gate as it parted open. The older man was smiling with pride, and the Gifted Lord smiled from behind his mask. Of all those in the fortress, even more than his master, Yuro had been the greatest influence. He was as a father to Rhokan, and the 'Lord of Fate' loved and respected him more than any other.

Beside his surrogate father stood Antonar with his hands clasped behind his back. The fellow apprentice stared angrily at him, and Rhokan was glad for the opportunity to be separate from his near-constant jealousy.

The gate parted before him, and he was greeted by the sight of Lord Tenebrius' army.

Thousands of soldiers, garbed in mail and wielding either spears or swords or bows, were standing at rigid attention on either side of the main road that led from the Iron Hold. They were all facing the fortress, and as Rhokan came out into the open, they raised their weapons high and cheered. Their collective voices sounded as a mighty cry of defiance. They would stand united against the monsters who would prey upon them and emerge victorious.

As Rhokan came to the edge of the formation, the soldiers all turned around and began marching behind him, their footfalls serving as the beating of war drums. They marched off to face the danger from without.

And completely missed the danger from within.

* * *

Antonar grumbled to himself as he strode through the corridor, escorted as always by his personal unit of the Shadow Guard. The servants and other guards parted before him, bowing as he passed, but he never even acknowledged their presence. His mind was on other matters.

He had spent his entire life studying under Lord Tenebrius, studying the psychic arts and obeying his every command. Antonar had been specifically chosen as the strongest of all his master's apprentices, the one who would succeed him as lord of the realm. Forty years had been the length of his apprenticeship; not once did he ever question his master or disobey a command. Yet, everything had changed when he had retrieved Rhokan from the Dread Forest. Since that day, the miraculous young man had matured within a matter of years, quickly outstripping all of his teachers and outgrowing every other Gifted Lord in the realm.

It would have been better if Antonar had killed him as a babe in the falling star.

He continued to serve Lord Tenebrius, hoping that his greatest rival would be granted a fiefdom within the realm, perhaps that of Vorroth or Elliara. But, his master had doted on Rhokan from the first moment, devoting all his attention to the budding sorcerer. Every day, it became more and more clear that Rhokan was chosen as their master's new successor.

Antonar had done everything in his power to please his master, but nothing he did was ever good enough. There was always another spell Rhokan mastered, another tome he finished within hours, another voice to praise him.

He kept walking through the corridors of the Iron Hold, not particularly caring about what direction. The Gifted Lord just needed some time to himself. Time to think, to plan his next move in the hopes of accomplishing his destiny.

Suddenly, he ran into Castellan Yuro. The old veteran took a step back and bowed his head. "My lord. Quite a speech Lord Tenebrius gave, wasn't it?"

"Yes, very" Antonar dryly replied. "I take it you are seeing to every point of this fortress' defenses in preparation for the Year of Suffering?"

"Of course, my lord. Although, I expect that Lord Rhokan will be able to throw back the Abominations with the army. In all my years, I have never seen one as powerful as him. I believe he will be a great lord of the realm… one day."

Antonar pursed his lips as he tightly clenched his hands into fists. "And what makes him so special?" he demanded angrily, taking a step towards the Castellan. They were of equal height, but the older man kept his head low, which made it easier to look down at him. "Before he came along, I was destined to rule this realm. Then he just appears one day and has been tearing my life apart bit by bit!"

"Begging your forgiveness, my lord" the Castellan said, taking a respectful step back. "I meant no offence. I am simply proud of the man Rhokan has become."

"Of course you are" Antonar spat.

He began to walk away, but the older man said "If I might say something further?"

Antonar stopped and looked at him for a moment. "Very well. Speak."

"I believe Lord Tenebrius remembers how loyal you have been. Rhokan might become his successor, but I am sure that he will reward you for your years of service."

Antonar snorted, turning and resuming his brisk walk. He left the older man behind, still feeling as angry as he was when Rhokan had departed the fortress. The Castellan could prattle on about loyalty and faith, but the last ten years had taught him that, if you wanted something, you had to take it by force, no matter the consequences or dangers.

And that was exactly what he was going to do.

* * *

Rhokan gazed out at the landscape arrayed before him, being able to see the entirety of his master's realm from atop the hill he and his bodyguards had situated themselves on.

To the north was the Iron Hold against the edge of the Tharji Mountains, which ran like the bottom teeth of a monstrous, ravenous predator that could consume entire worlds.

The eastern coast was within sight, but under the eternal darkness of Makandrascar, the water was nigh impossible to differentiate from the land.

In the south, the Enak Ravine appeared to be a massive tear in the earth, a black pit that many of the simple village folk spoke of as the entrance to the underworld. It had been formed during the 164th Year of Suffering, when Enak the Proud had destroyed himself and all his apprentices in a titanic explosion that had rent the earth in an effort to destroy a horde of Abominations.

And to the west, Rhokan's keen sight could make out the Dread Forest, or at least the edge of it. The forest itself was vast, stretching for many miles and encroaching on several different realms. Even from this distance, he could feel the malevolence exuding from the corrupted trees.

At the base of the hill, 2 000 soldiers were gathered, ready to move at the slightest word. The rest of the army was deployed along every point of the border.

The Abominations never emerged in any place in particular. By their very nature, their portals opened at completely random locations, making any sort of conventional, fixed defense strategy useless. As a result, the armies of the various Gifted Lords had adapted, relying on the ability to move wherever a threat emerged. The realm itself would be protected through use of The Gift, but the Abominations would seek to enter through the border, hence the army's concentration along several points. Rhokan and the cavalry force with him were meant to rapidly move from one zone to another, reinforcing any potential gaps in their defenses.

Rhokan knew that it was almost time. As the Year of Suffering began, five beams of silver light lanced upwards before the tips burst into a shimmering wall of light that soon encompassed the whole of Lord Tenebrius' realm like a bubble. He and all the other apprentices besides Rhokan and Antonar were now beginning their year-long incantation, relying on each other to enhance and maintain the strength of the spell. If even one of them were to fail, then the entire barrier would collapse and the realm would be at the mercy of hordes of Abominations emerging from random portals.

With the protection field in place, however, no portals would appear within it. Now, they only had to worry about threats from without.

For several minutes, Rhokan and the others remained still. There was nothing but empty silence; there was not even a gust of wind, nor a rumbling in the clouds. It was as if nature itself was afraid of what was to come, holding her breath in anticipation of the impending doom.

After an agonizing wait, they began to see bright flashes of light on the horizon. The Abominations were finally coming. The noiseless flashes continued for some time, and Rhokan could imagine the number of foul beasts that were invading their world, hungering for blood and slaughter on an obscene scale.

Eventually, off in the distance, one of the army groups fired a flaming arrow into the sky.

With the signal given, Rhokan urged his mount forward, and it quickly charged towards the group in need, flanked by the Shadow Guard and followed by the 2 000 cavalrymen.

Rhokan used his powers to enhance the speed of their horses, and it took several minutes for them to reach the edge of the Dread Forest where it would normally take hours. An army group was assembled in front of the trees, rows and rows of pike men arrayed like square-shaped porcupines and archers lined up behind them. They were the very picture of professionalism, warriors who lived and died by their convictions. Their armour and weapons were some of the finest on Makandrascar, and they had no equals.

Except the foes they now faced were dredged up from the depths of hell.

Brilliant flashes of light popped within the forest like lightning, while hordes of Abominations streamed from between the gnarled trees. Dozens and dozens of crimson, slobbering monsters wielding flaming swords charged the soldiers, their glowing pink eyes wide with the prospect of bloody slaughter.

The horde soon crashed against the army like a wave. Many were skewered by pikes or pierced by a torrent of arrows, but they were possessed of such ferocity that the formations were beginning to buckle under the never-ending assault.

Rhokan understood why the signal had been given.

As the archers knocked their next volley of arrows, he casually waved his hand and caused their tips to light with crimson fire. The archers were so used to the powers of their lords that they were not fazed, and quickly loosed the arrows. They shot through the air before striking the oncoming Abominations, and the ones which struck the ground created a wall of flame that roared into existence, temporarily slowing their ravenous foes down.

Rhokan reached out to the minds of the commanders, who possessed The Gift but were not powerful enough to become lords. Their talents were used to enhance the combat effectiveness of the soldiers, but the soldiers themselves were proving to be sorely lacking against the Abominations.

Each of the commanders felt his mental contact, understanding the plan he put forward. Mounted on his horse, Rhokan began the spell, focusing his will and never breaking focus.

The commanders offered their power, enhancing the spell's potency, much the same way as the apprentices were aiding Lord Tenebrius in casting the protection spell. As soldier after soldier was bisected and skewered, Rhokan poured more of his power into the spell like pouring broth into soup. It built and built, until finally it detonated in a titanic burst of white light that arced forward. Every Abomination struck by the white wave was instantly incinerated, reduced to nothing more than smoking skeletons. It reached far into the Dread Forest, giving this particular army group a respite.

Hundreds of men and women had fallen during the battle, their comrades respectfully pulling them aside for later burials whilst reforming in preparation for any future attacks. For the moment, there were none, and they had the chance to somewhat relax.

"My lord" one of Rhokan's Shadow Guard said, drawing his attention. The elite warrior was pointing off to the south, where another army group was positioned near the edge of the Enak Ravine. They had fired a flaming arrow into the sky.

With a mental command, Rhokan urged his steed to charge towards the arrow, his bodyguards and cavalry force following suite.

This was only the beginning, and the near entirety of the year was still before them.

* * *

For five long months, Lord Tenebrius and all of his apprentices besides Antonar maintained the protection spell. They were constantly attended to by groups of servants who sustained them with food, drink, and any other needs they had. Meanwhile, Rhokan was constantly kept busy with leading the army. From all the reports streaming into the Iron Hold, he was doing a superb job of holding back the hordes of Abominations.

By this point, thousands had died, but that was considered a remarkably low number of casualties. In past Years of Suffering, hundreds of thousands had been butchered like cattle, and whole populations had been completely destroyed.

A few thousand dead soldiers was something to celebrate.

Antonar, however, never felt the desire to celebrate. For five months now, he had been stuck inside the Iron Hold, nothing more than an afterthought in Lord Tenebrius' mind. His master had all but forgotten him in favour of Rhokan.

With nothing but free time on his hands, Antonar had devoted his efforts towards practice and learning. He spent hours in the fortress library, poring over the same tomes that Rhokan finished as a child.

While it always took him longer to do anything compared to the great and powerful 'Lord of Fate', he accomplished many things regardless.

Little by little, day by day, he was honing his powers into a fine edge. He could feel the changes as they slowly took place; learning new spells, enhancing ones he already knew, and delving into the ancient art of forging armour and weapons with The Gift, crafting them with finer edges and thicker plates. While he hated to admit it, Antonar had found some useful studying paths from his irritating rival's habits.

He was currently ascending the tallest spire of the Iron Hold, walking up the spiraling staircase that led to the uppermost chamber. A pair of Shadow Guard flanked the wooden door, and they saluted as Antonar approached.

He placed a hand on the door, feeling the protective sheath of defensive spells that were on it. The apprentice used a very specific spell that unlocked the defenses, and the door opened.

Antonar stepped through and entered the chamber which Lord Tenebrius had occupied every day for the last five months. It was round with a conical ceiling, with the floor consisting of a series of concentric circles with runes of power drawn into the spaces between them. The runes were all alight, glowing an ethereal silver, and in the centre of the room, Lord Tenebrius was kneeling.

He was completely still, and one would almost think him an inanimate statue if not for the rising and falling of his chest. The ancient sorcerer was the focal point for the protection spell, and he was awash with silver energy that spiralled into a point that ran up to the ceiling.

A number of servants were standing off to the side, looking down at the floor.

"Has he been fed and watered?" Antonar asked, not even bothering to look at them.

"Y-Yes, my lord" a young woman answered.

"Get out."

The servants obeyed without a word, quickly shuffling out of the chamber. As soon as the door closed behind them, Antonar removed his porcelain mask. He ran a gloved hand over his pale features, feeling the slight stubble that covered his mouth and cheeks. The masks they all wore were useful in maintaining an aura of mystery and separation from the common folk, but they could also feel like a prison, where one could only view the world through the eye holes.

"Everything was so much simpler ten years ago" he said, looking over at his master. He had no idea if the old man could hear him or not, but he didn't care. "You were my master, and I was your apprentice, the one who was meant to succeed you. And then Rhokan fell from the sky." Antonar tossed his mask to the side, using a miniscule portion of his power to keep it floating in the air. "Ever since then, everything has been upside down. Rhokan became your favourite, and it just seemed like you cast me aside like garbage. Do you have any idea how I felt? I did everything for you; I spent my entire life studying under you, and I could never measure up. He has always been better at everything. Next to him, I feel like a pathetic sack of skin who has no place in the world."

At this point, Antonar was fuming, clenching and unclenching his hands as he gave voice to ten years' worth of pent-up anger.

"Everything I ever did was for you" he said, slowly stepping towards his master. "But now, I am doing this for me."

* * *

Rhokan steeled himself as he led the cavalry charge. The army group stationed at the eastern tip of the Enak Ravine had requested aid, and even from a distance, his enhanced sight told him that their numbers had been cut in half.

No matter how well-equipped they were, no matter how many there were, the soldiers of the realm were simply no match for the Abominations, especially in large numbers.

The line was clearly about to collapse, and Rhokan urged his mount forward, serving as the spear tip of the massed cavalry charge. He cast a spell that wreathed the pikes of the cavalry in white flames that were deadly to their foes. The horses' hooves thundered as they charged forward, none of them shirking from their duty as they neared the advancing Abominations. They came closer, and closer, until finally they slammed into the group of crimson-skinned creatures like the hammer of an ancient and vengeful god.

Many of the cavalrymen were either cut down or had their horses slain, but most of them lasted long enough to trample several of the creatures as well as skewering them with psychically enhanced pikes.

A few minutes later, all of the Abominations were slain.

As Rhokan guided the reformation of the army group, he reflected on the last five months of the Year of Suffering. The Abominations were completely unpredictable, appearing in random locations and using different tactics at every battle. They also never attacked consistently; there could be attacks for eight straight days, and then nothing for a week. Then, they would suddenly attack on multiple fronts, only to hold back for a day and then fight for three more days. It was as if they were taking their time and… enjoying themselves.

The thought was deeply unsettling for Rhokan.

"My lord!" one of the army commanders cried out, pointing to the northwest. All of the soldiers were looking in the same direction, as well as his Shadow Guard. Rhokan's skin crawled, and he instinctively knew that something terrible was going to happen.

He turned his steed and, to his horror, saw the silver streams of light coming from Vorroth and Tarjon's castles disappearing as they ended their part of the protection spell.

The bubble covering Lord Tenebrius' realm began to dim and flicker now that its strength was reduced. A moment later, the stream coming from the Iron Hold suddenly vanished. At the same time, Rhokan sensed a sudden stab of pain in his chest, and he knew that his master, the mightiest Gifted Lord on Makandrascar, was dead. The protection spell collapsed like so much wet tissue, leaving the entire realm at the mercy of the Abominations.

Almost on cue, an angry, glowing red tear appeared on the ground, and several soldiers were pulled screaming into it. It then began to disgorge Abominations who immediately started slaying any soldier they could find.

Rhokan aimed his staff and shot one of them with a bolt of psychic blue energy. The Abomination it struck shrieked in agony as it collapsed back into the portal.

A seemingly never-ending tide of the monstrosities came out of the tear in reality, waging their slobbering tongues as they threw themselves into the fray with reckless abandon. Several of them seemed to recognize the threat Rhokan posed and charged towards him. The Shadow Guard squad formed a protective barrier around him, stabbing down with their powerful pikes as they desperately fought off their attackers.

The battle only got worse, and Rhokan's head began to ache as his senses became awash with the agony and brutality of the deaths. One of the Shadow Guard was suddenly pulled from his horse, and while he fought savagely to free himself, a number of Abominations piled atop the elite warrior.

Knowing that this battle was lost, Rhokan began to employ a spell just as a fresh wave of foes charged towards him. They opened their mouths wider than what should have been physically possible, their fangs glistening in the light from the portal.

Just as they came close enough to strike, the spell was enacted. Rhokan's vision exploded with colour as he used his power to tear a hole through reality itself, pulling the remainder of his Shadow Guard with him. One second they were on the battlefield, and the next they were inside the courtyard of Fakori Castle, the residence and place of administration for Elliara, one of Lord Tenebrius' apprentices.

Several voices began shouting in alarm, most likely due to their presence, and the archers posted along the wall let loose a shower of arrows.

Rhokan held up a hand, and all the arrows melted, vanishing like smoke.

"Hold fire!" someone familiar ordered from nearby. Rhokan looked up and saw Elliara, wearing her usual suit of silver armour, emerging from within the castle. "I shouldn't be surprised that you tore through my wards to get here" she said dryly as the other soldiers eased their stances.

Rhokan shrugged as he and his Shadow Guard dismounted. They were stained with the gore of battle, their clothes and armour awash with crimson. A few servants hurried into the courtyard and attended to the horses.

"You sensed it too?" Elliara asked, already knowing the answer. They came to stand in front of each other, and Rhokan looked down at his fellow apprentice.

He nodded.

"Hard to believe he is dead. I always thought he would live forever. Before the protection spell failed, I sensed it growing weak. What could that mean?" Rhokan placed a hand on her shoulder, sharing his memory of seeing the two focal points cutting out before Tenebrius' death. "Vorroth and Tarjon" she said after witnessing the memory. "Do you think they were killed somehow? I have no idea how the Abominations could have bypassed our defenses."

Suddenly, one of the warning bells started ringing, and everyone became tense.

"What is it?" Elliara demanded, looking up at the sentries. "Abominations?"

Her answer came a moment later, when one of the archers fell down onto the stone courtyard, an arrow in his eye. Everyone stared at the corpse as the shock set in, and in an instant, a hailstorm of arrows was raining down on them. Rhokan and Elliara held up a hand, forming an invisible wall which caught the arrows which would have struck them.

"Those miserable bastards!" she hissed, her anger palpable even through her mask. "Vorroth and Tarjon weren't killed; they cut themselves off from the spell, weakening it to the point where Tenebrius' death could bring it down. Neither of them are smart enough to do something like this; I can only think of one man in the Iron Hold who would plan something like this."

Antonar.

Rhokan pursed his lips as he floated through the air up to the battlements. Arrayed before the castle was a large force of soldiers that must have come from either of the traitors' household forces. Out in the distance, he could see the flaming portals of the Abominations as they invaded the realm en masse.

He struck his staff against the stone at his feet, and in response, bolts of white lightning lanced from overhead, striking several of the attacking soldiers before arcing between them. Within minutes, the entire force was destroyed, their bodies nothing more than charred husks on the grass.

Elliara floated up to the wall and stood beside him, her mouth agape. "I've never seen such power before" she said, breathlessly. She then did something wholly unexpected and knelt before Rhokan. "What is your command, Lord Rhokan?"

Rhokan was taken aback. In all the chaos of the protection spell's collapse and the following bloodshed and revelation of betrayal, he had never thought about becoming the new lord of the realm. Tenebrius had, of course, been grooming him to assume the position since he had fallen from the sky, much to Antonar's chagrin. That was the most likely reason for this abhorrent betrayal and subsequent coup, and Rhokan would do everything within his power to punish his rival and restore order to the realm.

With his destiny before him, he knew that only his rule could abate this disaster.

He bid Elliara to rise, along with all of the soldiers and Shadow Guard that had knelt before him. He reached out with his mind and initiated psychic contact with his new apprentice. She accepted, and Rhokan laid out his plans.

At this very moment, the realm was being ravaged by the Abominations while three of Tenebrius' former apprentices were attempting a selfish takeover of the realm. Elliara was to gather all the loyalists together and bring them to Fakori Castle. Using that as a base, they were to launch a series of punitive strikes that would, hopefully, allow them to re-establish control. While that was underway, Rhokan would take his Shadow Guard to the Iron Hold and confront Antonar himself.

"I understand" Elliara said, and he sensed that she knew failure was unacceptable.

Rhokan proceeded to float a few feet above the wall as he stretched his arms to the side. Gathering his power for several seconds, he unleashed it as a psychic pulse which would reach the mind of everyone in Tenebrius' territory. The message was simple: all those honouring their lord's memory would rally to their new master, while those who had betrayed them both would pay the bloody price.

With that, Rhokan floated down to the courtyard and mounted his horse alongside his nine remaining bodyguards. They charged out through the gate, their goal at the forefront of their thoughts.

* * *

The ride to the Iron Hold lasted for an hour, and Rhokan could sense imminent catastrophe at the edge of his awareness. His vision of blood and destruction was tragically coming true, but there was something far worse coming.

He urged his horse to speed up. The animal was panting heavily, and he doubted that it would last much longer, even while supported by his powers.

Soon enough, however, he and his Shadow Guard arrived at the Iron Hold. The soldiers at the walls were obviously on edge, and Rhokan could sense their frustration, fear, and anger raging within them. Any one of the men and women here were standing on a knife's edge; at any moment, they could snap, letting the terrifying pressure of the chaos break them.

Rhokan rode into the courtyard, and just as he came to a stop, his horse finally collapsed onto the stones. He felt the bones in his legs crack from the impact, but the damage was light, and among other things, he possessed a remarkable healing factor.

One of his Shadow Guard helped him up, and once he was standing, he began to walk towards the front door. A member of the Shadow Guard, accompanied by a pair of soldiers, came out to greet him.

"My lord" the elite warrior said, inclining his head. "It is such a relief to know that you yet live."

Rhokan nodded, noticing that the pair of soldiers were just as on edge as the rest.

"It has been utter bedlam since the protection spell was severed" the guard continued, remaining calm and collected. "Lord Antonar has decreed that the realm is now under his authority, but not all of us are convinced that that was Lord Tenebrius' will."

Rhokan cocked his head to the side, silently inquiring as to the other man's loyalties.

"My duty has always been to the lord of the realm" the guardsman explained. "And I believe that Lord Tenebrius would want you to be his successor."

"What are you saying?!" one of the soldiers demanded, his face glistening with sweat. "How do we know that he is meant to lead us? All we know is that—"

"Silence, whelp!" the guardsman barked, backhanding the man with a gauntlet.

The other soldier drew his sword, his eyes darting back and forth. "I won't follow someone just because they say so! I'm with Lord Antonar!" In response, one of Rhokan's bodyguards stepped forward and thrust his spear through the man's stomach, skewering him like a pig. He gurgled, blood running from his mouth as he collapsed onto the ground.

All hell then broke loose.

"For Lord Antonar!" a nearby voice cried out before having his throat pierced by an arrow.

"For Lord Rhokan!" another shouted just as a sword ran him through.

The soldiers in the courtyard and on the walls began to fight one another, their divided loyalties driving them to clash steel while the world was burning down around them. Several took shots at Rhokan himself, but his bodyguards raised their shields and formed a tight circle around him. As arrows bounced harmlessly off of blank, black shields, the other guardsman said "Quickly my lord, this way!"

The Gifted Lord was ushered inside, and the corridors of the Iron Hold proved to be just as hazardous as outside. Soldiers and Shadow Guard alike tore at each other, leaving behind a torrent of armed and unarmed corpses that stained the floors and walls red with blood.

All the while, Rhokan's bodyguards maintained their defiant wall, cutting down any who threatened him.

They waded through the bloodshed for several minutes, eventually rounding a corner and coming upon a familiar face. Castellan Yuro Katur, Rhokan's surrogate father, bared his teeth as he and a pair of Shadow Guard defended themselves from a wave of at least twenty rogue soldiers. The older man was still as fierce as he had been in his youth, and while the two guardsmen were some of the finest warriors of the realm, they were going to be overrun.

Rhokan acted without thought, blasting a white-hot beam of blazing energy from his palm. He swept it from side to side, incinerating most of the soldiers in the corridor. Only a handful remained, and Yuro made short work of them. He cut down the younger men with savage sword strokes, spraying his face and chest with their blood.

The fight having been won, the Castellan stood panting. Blood dripped onto the floor from his well-used sword, and he stared at the corpses, almost as if he were willing them to rise so that he might cut them down again.

Rhokan slowly approached, looking down at the other man. Yuro eventually looked up, and his eyes went wide with surprise. "You're alive!" he said with slight disbelief. "I expected you to perish in all this madness, but then again, I shouldn't be surprised."

Rhokan smiled from behind his mask.

The older man pointed his sword further down the corridor. "Antonar's sealed himself inside the highest room of the ritual tower. Says he's now the lord of the realm, and that any who oppose him must die."

Rhokan gripped his staff that much tighter, wanting to avenge himself upon his rival. With the two men reunited, he led the way through the Iron Hold. They ascended the spire in question, slowly making their way to the top, to the chamber where Antonar had murdered Lord Tenebrius.

Soon enough, they reached the door, which was still protected by the wards Lord Tenebrius had put in place. Rhokan gathered his strength, focusing his willpower as his body erupted into flames. Yuro and the Shadow Guard stayed well behind as he met the wards head-on. They were strong, created by an ancient master of The Gift, but they were no match for his power, and the door melted as he stepped into the chamber.

It was large, at least thirty feet across, but also nearly empty. The circular chamber was only occupied by two people, one of which had killed the other.

Rhokan paused as the others filed in behind him. There, in the centre of the floor, was Lord Tenebrius, his master and protector. The old man was slumped where he had been kneeling, a knife driven into his back the obvious cause of death. Even though he had sensed it happening from afar, Rhokan was no less saddened and shocked to see his master slain in such a cowardly manner.

His eyes drifted up to where Antonar was standing with his hands tightly gripping Tenebrius' staff. "So, we finally come to it" the other man said, his voice tinged with anger and relief. "Let's see which of us really has the power!"

With that, he attacked, leveling his stolen staff at Rhokan and unleashed a blast of bluish-white lightning.

Rhokan held up a hand and dispelled the lightning which would have struck him, but two of the Shadow Guard were not as lucky, crying out in agony as they were incinerated. He retaliated by lifting the fallen guardsmen's spears and hurling them at Antonar at incredible speed. Antonar moved with superhuman speed, striking both spears with his staff and breaking them into pieces. He then clenched a hand into a fist, shattering those pieces into tiny shards.

He proceeded to thrust his hand forward, throwing a veritable hailstorm at him.

Rhokan struck his staff against the floor, sending out a pulse that dissolved the shards into harmless dust. He quickly swiped his staff in an arc, casting a wave of blazing flames at his opponent.

Antonar held firm, raising a psychic barrier which shielded him from the flames.

The two Gifted Lords fought like this for some time, furiously attacking and defending in an effort to defeat each other. While Rhokan was unquestionably the more powerful, Antonar was far older and more learned, and he proved to be a more than equal opponent for the Lord of Fate. The Shadow Guard attempted to get close to Antonar, but he would always keep them at bay with a psychic attack, preventing them from entering the fray.

Rhokan twirled his staff before striking it against the floor, creating a concussive wave of energy that shot forth. It struck Antonar full-on, and it was enough to stagger him somewhat. Just as he was about to follow up on the attack, Rhokan saw Yuro charging the other man.

The Castellan shouted a savage war-cry as he advanced, his sword held high for the attack. Antonar regained his bearings just in time to see this latest threat, and lashed out with a bolt of blue energy that struck Yuro in the left arm. The limb was instantly blackened, and it soon crumbled into dust. Rhokan's eyes went wide with fear, his heart thundering in his chest, but the loss of an arm only seemed to spur the older man further.

Within seconds, he roared as he brought his sword down on Antonar, slicing deep into his leg. The traitorous apprentice cried out in agony as he collapsed onto the floor.

Rhokan reached out with his free hand and clenched it into a fist, breaking both of Antonar's arms. He stumbled, suddenly feeling weak as one of the Shadow Guard supported him. The duel had taken much of his strength, and he would need to rest for some time in order to completely rejuvenate himself. But for the moment, he could take solace in the fact that his rival had been defeated.

It was finally over. With the traitorous apprentice's coup now ended, Rhokan could begin to restore a semblance of peace to the realm.

Taking a deep breath, he looked over at Antonar and saw Yuro slicing open his robe with a dagger. The older man began to carve what appeared to be an eight-pointed star into Antonar's chest, eliciting a tortured cry of pain that made Rhokan shiver.

"Castellan, what are you doing?" one of the Shadow Guard demanded.

Yuro finished carving the symbol and looked up at the man, his eyes appearing wild with rage as he bared his teeth. "What I should have done a long time ago!"

He then stabbed the dagger into the symbol, and Antonar suddenly exploded.

Rhokan was thrown onto his back by the sheer force of the explosion, and his mind was on fire as the energies released washed over him like a wave. The Shadow Guard perished instantly as the walls and ceiling were blasted into kindling, opening the chamber to the outside world as a maelstrom of swirling crimson energy raged where Antonar had been lying. Rhokan gripped his head with both hands, silently screaming as the storm suddenly converged on itself, setting off a second explosion.

Then there was silence, and Rhokan knew that the horror of his vision had come true.

He came to stand and beheld an Abomination. Only, it wasn't like any of the hundreds which he had slain; this was a beast of gargantuan proportions, the very stuff of nightmares given form in a body of pure evil.

The creature before him was at least thirty feet tall. It stood on cloven hooves that seemed to burn the very ground, and its hide was coloured a bright crimson, the colour of freshly spilled blood. Its body was covered in prodigious muscles, far more than what seemed physically possible, and enormous leathery wings sprouted from its back. A fiery whip and massive, double-headed axe were in both clawed hands, and it looked down at him with milky white eyes. Its face was canine, and the skin was pulled so taut that the outline of the skull was visible. Twin horns sprouted from the top of its head, curving around each other like a double helix.

Rhokan, his body aching from the battle with Antonar and the violent magical explosion, his mind throbbing in the presence of such a hateful creature, came to stand straight.

The creature took a whiff of the air with the thin slits that were its nostrils. "Now, I am come to the material world." Its voice was akin to the sound of bones cracking within a roaring fire. Rhokan grunted in pain and leaned against his staff, drawing its attention. "You. Mortal. You were the reason for my arrival."

Rhokan looked up at the monstrosity, his brow furrowed in confusion.

As if sensing his thoughts, it said "I am Sathu'khar, Herald of The Slaughter and Chosen of the Blood God. My Warband first came to this world long ago in search of sport. However, we soon discovered that the mortals who dwelled here began to become miserable, wretched sorcerers!" As he said this, he slammed a hoof into the floor, creating a small burning crater. "Despite my desire to exterminate you all, I knew that you could provide further sport to my legions. A few of your mortal years pass, and I hold back my warriors' bloodlust only to unleash them upon your kind. Magnificent, isn't it?"

Rhokan looked down at the ground in shock. Makandrascar was nothing but a hunting ground for this… thing and its army? Their entire history nothing but a lie? The planet was a massive game reserve. But something had changed; something had happened that drew the 'Warband's' leader here.

"I sensed your obliteration of my warriors, mortal. You sent a massive ripple through the Warp, and I felt compelled to pierce the veil so that I may collect your skull myself!"

Just then, Rhokan saw Yuro emerging from underneath a pair of Shadow Guard corpses. The older man took a few steps, and Rhokan tried to warn him, but he looked up at the Abomination, and then said "My lord, I have done as you commanded. I have brought you here."

"And so you have" Sathu'khar acknowledged. He waved a hand, and Yuro's lost arm was replaced by a limb of what appeared to be blood-drenched metal. The rest of his body changed, too, the muscles expanding to twice their normal size as his eyes became a glossy black. His sword also changed, becoming nearly twice as long and edged with animal teeth "A reward for your service."

Rhokan stood there, dumbfounded. How could this have happened? Yuro had been like a father to him, protecting him and encouraging him at every turn. It just wasn't possible that he could have betrayed them all like this. It wasn't!

Yuro looked over at him, the familiar expression of paternal pride and warmth evaporated like water in the scorching sun. Instead, he looked at Rhokan with disgust and contempt.

Sathu'khar chuckled, a highly unsettling sound. "Yes" he hissed. "Your beloved protector, driving a knife so deeply into your heart. How wonderful!"

Rhokan could only think to himself: why?

Yuro spat on the ground. "You miserable sorcerers cost me everything. I have watched my entire family die at the hands of the Abominations. My only son was taken from me! I spent twenty years mourning him, trying to figure out why such terrible things had happened. And then my true master began to whisper from the depths of my mind. He told me that his Warband only comes here for your kind. The Years of Suffering, our entire history, is because of you! Rhokan, the Lord of Fate. You're no better than the others! Antonar, Tarjon, Vorroth, Tenebrius… they and all the so-called 'Gifted Lords' treated the rest of us like we were nothing! I always hated them, and I always hated you most of all."

Sathu'khar chuckled once more. "His hatred burned like a star within the Warp, and it was a simple matter to reveal the truth to him."

Yuro pointed at the spot where Antonar's broken mask had landed on the ground. "Antonar always hated you, too. He was jealous of your power, and I made sure to always be there, always speaking highly of the 'great and mighty' Rhokan. I stoked the flames of his anger for nearly a decade, and look at what I have wrought!"

"A feast of skulls and blood for the Blood God's pleasure!" the Abomination declared, spreading his arms and wings wide.

"Tarjon and Vorroth died with the spell, their dream of rebellion crushed before it could bear fruit" Yuro added with sadistic pleasure. "And soon enough, I will claim the skulls of you and the rest of your miserable kind."

Looking at his former protector, Rhokan understood. Yuro had been corrupted by this creature; his grief and loss had been twisted into anger and white-hot rage which had ensured his fall. Now, he was no longer the man he once was. Yuro Katur, Castellan of the Iron Hold, was dead. In his place was a horrific, twisted being filled with nothing but the desire for bloodshed and mindless slaughter.

Despite his fatigue, Rhokan gathered his strength and, aiming with his staff, fired a bolt of energy at the Abomination's leader. It struck him in the shoulder, but it only blackened the crimson hide.

The psychic attack only seemed to enrage Sathu'khar, who bellowed a hideous roar as he leaped over to Rhokan, bringing his double-headed axe down in a furious blow which smote the ground at his feet. Chunks of stone were thrown into the air, and the sheer force of the attack threw Rhokan backwards. He tumbled off of the edge, plummeting down to the base of the mountains. The Gifted Lord eventually came to strike the ground, barely able to summon a protective shield that was adequate enough to prevent his death.

Severely weakened and feeling a dark depression settling on him, he grabbed hold of his staff and teleported away.

Nowhere on Makandrascar was now safe.

* * *

And with that, we come to the end of this part of the tale. Starting next chapter, we'll be seeing what Kaius Caesarius has been up to. Don't worry; there'll be plenty more Daemonic shenanigans to come!

Please review and favourite!


	7. Mechanicus Rex

Kaius removed his shirt and sat down on the hard bench. His hands were resting on his knees, and his bright silver eyes stared ahead as he waited for the process to begin.

Though he was only ten standard years old, he had undergone dramatic changes. The most obvious was his physical growth; Kaius was now fully grown, and he easily towered over all the Tech Priests and soldiers of Manufactorum Tarsis. Some had likened him to a Titan god-machine in human form, for his musculature was far beyond what any human could achieve, naturally or otherwise. The second most striking change was his mental faculties; he had quickly learned everything the Mechanicus had to teach him, and from a young age he had given keen insights into countless technological developments in the Manufactorum. For the Tech Priests, his astounding knowledge was far more important than his colossal strength.

However, while they held knowledge the most dear, the Exploratores were also fighting a religious war with the Orationes. As such, his physical improvements were another boon.

Behind him, Kaius felt a razor shearing the close-cropped silver hair from the back of his head. His ultra-aware senses felt every centimetre of the blade, every hair that was shorn like a stalk of wheat. Once the back of his head was smooth and clean, a filtered voice asked in the digital code that was Lingua Technis "Are you ready to begin, Fabricator Locum?"

Kaius replied "Yes. You may proceed" in the same language, which he had mastered within a month of learning it.

Due to his extraordinary physical and mental abilities, as well as the patronage of Lucratio Moran, he had rapidly risen through the ranks of the Cult Mechanicus until he had attained the rank of Fabricator Locum, the second highest rank for a Tech Priest under the authority of the Fabricator-General. None disputed his meteoric rise to power, viewing it as only natural for one specially created by the Machine God himself.

Despite the reverence afforded to him by his origins and wisdom, he had gone years without receiving a single tech implant, for fear of marring his natural perfection. However, a Tech Priest was expected to venerate the Machine God, and so come closer to their lord through replacing their fragile flesh.

Because of this, Kaius had insisted on receiving implants. His right arm had been replaced two years prior, having been replaced with a mechanical appendage lovingly crafted by the Artisans to perfectly resemble a human arm with his proportions.

A further enhancement had seen the right side of his face replaced by metal with a glowing red ocular implant. While his natural, left, eye gave him greater sight than the average human, the synthetic, right, eye now allowed him to see into every spectrum, as well as offering night vision and the ability to magnify an image. Half of a well-trimmed silver beard covered the organic half of his mouth.

There were also the two Mechadendrites protruding from his back. They were significantly larger than the average to accommodate for his god-like proportions, and they were connected to his nervous system via the spine to allow for direct, seamless control. The one that extended under his left arm ended in a large drill, while the one that extended under his right arm ended in a large metal claw. Both aided him in technological endeavours and combat equally.

"Beginning procedure" the filtered voice said.

The Tech Priest Markovius, who had by this time been elevated to the rank of Artisan, had personally fitted Kaius with each of his implants, and this procedure would see him add the most important.

As he began, his small army of Servitors scuttled about, following any of his commands automatically.

The Tech Priest made an incision on the skin, carving a perfect circle onto the back of Kaius' head. He tightly gripped his knees, acutely feeling the cold sting of the blade; he did not utter so much as a grunt. While the Mechanicus taught that flesh was weak when compared to metal, he had no intention of showing any weakness. His flesh was far stronger than any other, and he continued to endure the pain as Markovius worked. The fellow Tech Priest slowly removed the skin and bone in a shallow, bowl-shaped incline within the circle before fitting the cybernetic socket into the hollowed-out space. Kaius felt the cold metal as it was bolted into place, smiling a little at how this was bringing him another step closer to the Machine God.

With the cranial socket in place, Markovius moved on to the second part of the procedure. He fitted the second socket onto Kaius' back. It pierced the skin with three nodes and directly connected to the cervical vertebrae. Kaius sensed the connection, cocking his head to the side as he felt the strange new sensation at the edge of his control.

Eventually, Markovius stepped back and said "The procedure is complete. You may stand, Fabricator Kaius."

Kaius took a deep breath, then stood to his full, towering, height. He rolled his neck around a few times, and his shoulders, before smiling with satisfaction. "Well done, brother. The unit fits perfectly."

The other Tech Priest bowed. "I am pleased." He gestured with a mechanical, multi-tooled hand to a nearby apparatus. "Would you care to test its effectiveness?"

Kaius nodded his assent. The Mind Impulse Unit, or MIU for short, was one of the most important bionic upgrades a member of the Mechanicus could receive. While most Tech Priests, such as himself, possessed a cortical implant that regulated any Mechadendrites, the MIU was a far more complex piece of technology. It allowed the Tech Priest to directly interface with a weapon or vehicle, and the Princeps of the Titan Legions utilized them to interface with their particular Titans.

He walked over to the apparatus Markovius indicated, inspecting it with both eyes. His natural eye saw that it would fit over his spine, and the two Mechadendrites would extend over his shoulders. The scan from his ocular implant told him that a network of neuro-receptive cables ran the length of the apparatus, with connectors that would fit into his newly applied sockets.

"I trust that you followed my specifications exactly?" Kaius asked, looking over at Markovius.

"Of course, Fabricator Locum. Your designs were brilliant and complex, but also highly intuitive. It was not that difficult to construct."

With that, Kaius turned so that his back was to the apparatus. The other Tech Priest, after whispering a prayer to the Machine God, fitted the device onto his back. The moment the connection was made, he inhaled sharply. He could feel the twin Mechadendrites that protruded from his back just as much as his other limbs. He tested the connection, retracting and extending them repeatedly until he was satisfied.

Once he was certain that there were no errors, Kaius turned and searched for targets. Spotting two Servitors, he pointed to a spot several metres ahead of him. "Stand there."

The cybernetic drones dutifully obeyed, shambling over to the indicated position. Once they were standing still, Kaius trained both of the weapons on his two new Mechadendrites on them. They powered up for several seconds, creating a high-pitched whine, before discharging two blasts of superheated plasma. The plasma rounds shot through the air, and, upon striking their targets, caused the Servitors to explode into a fine red mist.

Kaius smiled a little as he retracted the Mechadendrites. "Markovius, this is your best work yet."

"You humble me, Fabricator Locum. I only work to venerate the Machine God."

"As do we all."

Over the years, Kaius had greatly contributed to the Exploratores' cause in a myriad of ways. His extraordinary mind, combined with his inquisitive nature, had led him to numerous technological feats, from optimizing the ammunition feeds of autocannons to refining the logic systems found in both Tech Priests and Skitarii to developing new forms of weapons technology.

This latest design had been the result of an epiphany after two days of prayer and effort.

The forges of Portentia had been capable of creating potent weapons of war for centuries, but thus far they had not been able to produce a design for Plasma Guns that incorporated a rechargeable power supply, eliminating the need to reload. The design was still highly experimental, with Kaius bearing the only prototypes. In time, perhaps, they would see wider use.

With his MIU and twin Plasma Mechadendrites now implanted, Kaius had a Servitor put on his sleeveless, hooded robe. Once that was on, he departed from the laboratory.

He walked the halls of the eastern quadrant of Manufactorum Tarsis, passing by innumerable Tech Priests, Servitors, and Skitarii crisscrossing the endless labyrinth of halls and transport hubs. Without fail, every single one of them stopped and bowed as he approached, and his keen hearing could detect more than one whisper of thanks to the Machine God for sending such an emissary during their hour of need.

Kaius was not put off by the sheer reverence the Exploratores gave him. Lucratio had always told him that he was special, having been personally created by the Machine God Himself.

His destiny was to lead the world of Portentia out of the shackles of tradition and into the shining future of progress and discovery.

Still, as much as he was honoured by the respect and submissiveness, he felt that there was… something missing from his life. At the core of his very being, there was a gnawing sensation that something, or someone, was waiting for him in some way. There was no answer readily available, and it was something that Kaius mulled over day by day.

Even his vast intellect had no answer to that problem.

Eventually, Kaius arrived at the Stratagem Primus Locus, the war room and central hub for the Exploratores' struggle against the Orationes. He could remember Lucratio taking him to this very room when he had been a boy, showing him Portentia and telling him of its potential should they overthrow Horatior Flaccum and his allies.

At the moment, the chamber was a hive of activity: cyborg Servitors scuttled back and forth, attending to the Tech Priests who were either plugged into the terminals lining the walls or gathered around the central hololith projector, while armed Combat Servitors stood vigil at every entrance.

The men gathered around the projector represented the senior leadership of the Exploratores, and thus some of the most powerful officials on Portentia. There was Fabricator-General Lucratio Moran, the overall leader of the movement, along with Erwin Krantz, Princeps Maximus of the Exploratores' Titans, Najart, Commander of the Skitarii, and eight other senior Tech Priests at the very head of their specific strata.

Kaius walked over to the projector, coming to stand beside his mentor.

The Tech Priests gathered around the projector looked over at him, staring appreciatively at his newly implanted Mechadendrites. Lucratio glanced at him, his ocular implants shining from under his drawn hood, and said "Welcome, Kaius. I trust that your Mind Impulse Unit was installed successfully?"

"It was, Fabricator-General."

"Excellent."

The aged Tech Priest returned his attention to the projector, which was currently displaying an image of Portentia's first continent. Manufactorum Tarsis was located to the south, while the Orationes' primary stronghold of Manufactorum Croesus, along with several other fortresses and smaller manufacturing centres, were aligned along the northern coast.

A few outposts of both factions were located on the second continent, but for the most part, the Manufactorums there were unaligned, and thus not a part of the Schism.

"The balance of war is finally matched" Lucratio said, indicating the relatively equal territories of both factions. "We are on an even footing with our enemy, but our momentum has stalled. We must strike at once, and force the Orationes on the defensive. Manufactorum Croesus is too heavily defended; we must focus our efforts on the outlying fortresses. Once they are taken, we will have surrounded our enemy's final stronghold."

Kaius nodded. The strategy was sound, as the only route open to them was to whittle away Horatior Flaccum's allies and outposts. An all-out attack would only be possible with more forces than they currently had.

He examined the projection closely, attempting to identify the best place for an attack.

"Here" he said, pointing to a smaller Manufactorum on the continent's northeast. "This is the most logical point. If we were to launch an attack there, I am confident that I can force a breach into their defenses."

"Very well" the Fabricator-General said. The other senior Tech Priests nodded in agreement. "The attack will be enhanced by elements of Legio Lex. The Warlord-Class Titan _Mechanicus Rex_ has now been fully constructed, along with two squadrons of fresh Reaver-Class Titans. We will…"

As his mentor elaborated on the disposition of their forces, Kaius' enhanced senses allowed him to hear something. He looked around the Stratagem Primus Locus, noting the dozen Servitors and groups of Tech Priests going about their business as they always did. His gaze fell on one particular priest who was plugged into a terminal. Kaius did not need enhanced vision to see that the adept was moving frantically, responding to some manner of crisis. Just then, he noticed another priest frantically working at a terminal, then another, and another, and another.

Within seconds, every single datafeed in the room was alight with alarms, and the senior Tech Priests became alerted.

"Report" Lucratio ordered.

A nearby Tech Priest responded in the midst of madly typing away at his terminal "Multiple reports of focused sabotage streaming in from Sigma Block, Fabricator-General."

"Similar reports from Chi Block."

"And Theta Block."

"The entire Manufactorum is being affected" Kaius surmised. "Any commonalities between reports?"

For a moment, there was silence, but a Transmechanic said "Visual confirmation coming in. Hold. Local Skitarii squad confirm that the saboteurs appear to be compromised Servitors, Fabricator-General."

Kaius clenched his hands into fists, knowing in his heart that Horatior Flaccum was behind this. Then, he snapped his head to the side just as one of the senior Tech Priests gave a startled electronic cry as the Chainsword arm of a Combat Servitor pierced clean through his chest, the motorized teeth spraying metal and sparks. The Chainsword was pulled back, and the Magos collapsed, the soft glow of his ocular implants dimming until they went out.

The Stratagem Primus Locus erupted into chaos as nearly half of the Combat Servitors became hostile, striking at their brethren and former masters.

Kaius saw a pair of them charging towards the group of senior priests. Time seemed to slow around him as he perceived the corrupted cyborgs preparing to terminate a pair of Archmagi. With his superior reflexes and mind, he targeted them with his Plasma Mechadendrites. The weapons whined as they built up a charge before discharging a pair of rounds that struck the Servitors and disintegrated them.

He turned around just in time to see another one just as it prepared to swing with its Chainsword arm. Kaius responded by catching it with his Claw Mechadendrite. He had it twist the arm so harshly that he ripped it out of the Servitor's shoulder. As blood began to flow from the wound, he struck with his Drill Mechadendrite, turning it into so much red paste.

The skirmish was over as soon as it had begun. Three Tech Priests, two of them Magi, had fallen, along with a pair of loyal Combat Servitors.

"Secure the room" Kaius ordered, and the cyborgs responded by sealing the entrances. He scanned the room, until his gaze fell on the corpse of Lucratio Moran, Fabricator-General of Manufactorum Tarsis and leader of the Exploratores. His mostly metallic head had been split asunder by a Chainsword, leaving naught but a mangled stump of metal and wire where his neck had been.

Everyone in the room stared down at their fallen leader, who had founded their movement and guided it for centuries. He was now dead, and the Manufactorum was beset by a wave of compromised Servitors.

All eyes turned to Kaius.

* * *

Tarcinius took aim with his Arc Rifle, which was fed targeting data from his bionic eyes to the weapon itself via a cybernetic link. Having acquired his target, he squeezed the trigger.

His rifle discharged with a crack, firing an electric bolt that struck the head of a rogue Servitor and frying its organic and machine parts, killing it instantly.

The Skitarius took stock of the situation: while out on patrol, his unit had come across a batch of Servitors who had apparently been compromised in some manner. They had attacked a group of minor Tech Priests before working to sabotage the nearby controls that regulated one of Manufactorum Tarsis' main gates. Fortunately, he and his squad had quickly dispatched them, preventing the gates from being opened.

Unfortunately, they were receiving scattered reports of similar incidents from across the Manufactorum.

"Confirm enemy termination" he ordered. He and his squad proceeded to mercilessly shoot the fallen Servitors in the head, creating bloody smears across the walls and floor. The Mechanicus had stripped them of all emotion, leaving only pure logic and the capacity to kill without remorse.

"Tribune", Sergeant Vinco said, pointing down the hall.

Tarcinius turned and saw an approaching Tech Priest, an Enginseer judging by his implants. The Skitarii Tribune and his squad stood at rigid attention as one of their masters came to stand in front of them.

"Situation report" the Enginseer demanded.

"Corrupted Servitors in this section have been eliminated" Tarcinius dutifully replied.

Before the Enginseer could speak further, there was a boom off in the distance. They all turned to look out the window and saw, on the horizon, a line of dark colour slowly building in thickness.

Tarcinius zoomed in with his bionic eyes, which managed to identify shapes and patterns. The line was, in fact, an oncoming horde of Titans, Ordinatus vehicles, and Skitarii.

It was perfectly clear now that the Servitors' sabotage had been merely the prelude for an Orationes assault on the Manufactorum. It was a desperate gamble, given that it was defended by its own Titans and several Macroclades of Skitarii.

The Forge World of Portentia had always been defended with the Titans of Legio Lex and a Legion of Skitarii. However, when the Exploratores had officially separated from the traditional ruling party, several Maniples of Titans and Macroclades of Skitarii had followed them, giving both sides armies with which to fight in the Schism.

The latter was easy enough to produce, as new soldiers were vat-grown and equipped every year. The former were not so easy, as a single Titan could take decades, and even centuries, to construct. The Exploratores only had less than half of a full Titan Legion, and the newly constructed Warlord and Reavers were meant to replenish their numbers.

The enemy's bold plan had some merit, Tarcinius mused. They had a not insubstantial chance of victory.

He prayed to the Machine God for deliverance.

* * *

"How did this happen?" Kaius asked as the Stratagem Primus Locus recovered after the surprise assault.

"The Orationes most likely infiltrated our Servitors with one of their own after a battle. That unit would have borne corrupted code, which disseminated throughout our network in the following days."

Kaius nodded, knowing that that was the most likely explanation. Regardless, that was less important than ensuring the Manufactorum did not collapse during the chaos. "I want full status updates from every block as well as reports from all ranking Tech Priests, Skitarii Commanders, and Titan command crews."

Suddenly, the room's normally faded lighting became an angry red, quickly flashing as shrill alarms began wailing like the tortured screams of dying animals.

"Our sensors are detecting an enemy force approaching the primary defensive line" a Transmechanic explained. "Eighteen Titans and numerous Macroclades of Skitarii are about to launch an assault. Friendly Titans and Skitarii are already forming along the perimeter."

"It is only logical" Kaius said. "Sabotage enough of our systems and leave us crippled in the face of a frontal assault." He turned to look at Erwin Krantz. "What is the status of the command crews for the new Titans?"

The Princeps Maximus clenched his bionic jaw. "Twenty four Princeps and their crews are reporting in, and are already interfacing with the Reavers. However, Princeps Ajax and all three of his Moderati were slain by Servitors. Without them, we cannot deploy _Mechanicus Rex_ into battle."

Kaius pursed his lips in frustration. While twenty four Reaver-Class Titans were quite formidable, they were nowhere near as powerful as a Warlord-Class Titan.

Yet another blow to their war effort.

"Send out the Reavers to reinforce the defensive line" he ordered. Erwin Krantz quickly complied, relaying the order. Kaius spent the next few minutes seeing to the disposition of their forces, placing squadrons of Titans along the line like stopgaps inserted into pipes to prevent toxic chemicals from leaking.

As the battle continued to rage in front of the Manufactorum, Kaius' thoughts turned back to _Mechanicus Rex_ , the Titan who was currently standing lifeless in its forging chamber; a god who would never make its presence felt on the battlefield.

His genetically enhanced nature had always been at the forefront of his thinking. During every conversation with a fellow Tech Priest, every lesson with Lucratio Moran, every prayer and invocation to the Machine God, his superhuman enhancements had ensured that he was superior in almost every regard. His mind was more potent than any other, possessed of knowledge and wisdom that defied 'mortal' limitations.

The moment came upon him, and he made his decision.

"I will interface with _Mechanicus Rex_."

All of the senior officials around the projector froze, looking at him like he had become deranged.

"Fabricator-General, that is impossible" Erwin Krantz stated. "Finding a Princeps for a Titan is a difficult, laborious process under the best of circumstances. Ajax was the twelfth candidate for _Mechanicus Rex_ ; all the others were unable to control its Machine Spirit and suffered brain aneurisms, psychotic breaks, and even death."

"You must not risk yourself in this manner" Archmagos Georg added. "We cannot afford to lose you at this critical junction."

"And what alternative is there?" Kaius countered. "The enemy is at our doorstep, and they stand a chance of breaching our fortifications. Everything we have ever fought for is at risk, and our decisions this day will ensure our survival or our destruction. Lucratio Moran believed in our cause. He believed that we could escape from the shackles of tradition to reach new heights of discovery and knowledge. He died fighting for that belief, and I intend to continue that fight. _Mechanicus Rex_ will go forth as an avatar of the Machine God Himself, dispensing righteous fury upon our misguided enemies."

* * *

Kaius quickly walked through the labyrinthine passages of the Manufactorum, approaching the forging chamber of the Titan he intended to link with.

With his MIU installed, he could physically connect with the god-machine, but controlling it without the aid of a command crew had never been attempted. Titans possessed arguably the fiercest Machine Spirits in existence, and a Princeps required the aid of Moderati who controlled their weapons and sensors. Kaius was entering uncharted territory.

He soon emerged into the vast, cavernous chamber where hordes of Servitors and Tech Priests had laboured for over 200 years to construct the most potent war engine on Portentia.

 _Mechanicus Rex_ dominated the space, looming like a gargantuan machine in the shape of a man, but with the head protruding from its chest. Its right arm sported a six-barreled Gatling Blaster capable of an extreme rate of fire, its left arm sported a massive Tarsis-Pattern Power Claw, and mounted on both shoulders were Apocalypse Missile Launchers. Overall, it was a maelstrom of death and destruction waiting to be unleashed.

Kaius strode across the walkway suspended thirty feet above the ground towards the Titan's command module inside its head, which was currently splayed open.

"Commencing pre-ignition diagnostics" the filtered voice of a Tech Priest came through the Vox-unit that had replaced Kaius' right ear.

As he approached the cockpit, he began uttering the memorized _Invocatio Titanicus_. "Oh, mighty avatar of war, I beseech thee. I am beset by intractable enemies who seek my destruction. Oh, great and shining colossus of death, I beseech thee. Bring your righteous fury upon my foes and bring them to ruin…"

"All weapons systems are fully operational."

"Oh, eternal destroyer, I beseech thee. Grant me the power to claim victory this day. Oh, avatar of the Machine God, bestow your blessings upon your loyal adept."

"Plasma reactor at peak efficiency."

Kaius stepped into the cockpit and, having removed his four Mechadendrites earlier, sat down upon the command throne. He took a deep breath, silently praying to the Machine God, then plugged himself into the throne. The connectors interfaced with the cranial and spinal sockets of his MIU, and Kaius gave a sharp intake of breath as the link was established.

A rush of sensation swept over him like a wave; all at once, he felt more than he had ever felt, drowning in a vast ocean of feeling. Slowly, he managed to regain a sense of identity just as something loomed over his consciousness.

While only being freshly constructed, and thus not at all as old as others of its kind, _Mechanicus Rex's_ Machine Spirit was massive, a savage leviathan waiting to consume him.

Other, lesser, minds would have been utterly destroyed by its might, but Kaius possessed a mind that was more powerful than any other on Portentia. As if sensing that distinction, the Titan's Machine Spirit reared back, preparing to strike. Kaius marshalled every iota of his mental and physical willpower and began to impose his will on the ferocious intelligence at the heart of the god-machine. The two struggled against one another, but just as quickly as it had started, the mental combat ended, and the Machine Spirit did something wholly unexpected.

It bowed in submission to him.

Kaius was initially dumbfounded. Even at the best of times, a Princeps had to reign in his respective war engine's intelligence at each interface, a task that was nigh-impossible for any but the strongest of minds. He had never before heard of a Machine Spirit that completely submitted to its Princeps. Not once had that occurred.

Except that it just did.

Not wasting any time, Kaius finished imposing his will, and it did not offer any other resistance. Once that was done, a fresh wave of sensation flooded over him. In an instant, he had become the Titan; its weapon arms were his, its thick legs were his, and he found himself standing forty metres tall. For all intents and purposes, Kaius was now the _Mechanicus Rex_.

He opened his eyes and beheld the vast forging chamber. Before him were the large doors that opened into the main thoroughfare which would take him to the Manufactorum's front gate.

Kaius took a step forward, his massive footfall ringing through the chamber. "Central control, this is Kaius Caesarius" he said after opening a Vox link. "Open the doors to Forging Chamber 4926-Alpha-34."

There was a moment of silence, then "As you command." The voice was filled with reverence and awe, for the Exploratores' new leader was, in essence, communing with an avatar of the Machine God. He was linked with the divine intelligence of the universe.

The great doors split open, groaning under their immense weight as they parted before him. With his way now clear, Kaius began walking out into the open.

In the corners of his vision, he could see the hordes of Servitors and Tech Priests standing far below. They all bowed before him as he passed, causing the ground to quake with every step. Eventually, he reached the Manufactorum's front gate, hearing the sounds of battle like the thunderclaps of a raging storm. The gate parted before him, and he walked through.

The primary defensive line, a barrier against enemy incursion which was the sight of the battle, was arrayed some distance away from the Manufactorum. A series of trenches, weapon emplacements, Skitarii bases and several Titans had been put in place in order to halt any sort of enemy advance.

As he came near, Kaius could see through his Titan's eyes that the Orationes were throwing nearly everything they had at the line, attempting to break through. Lascannons and Plasma Destructors mounted on tall towers spewed glowing energy bolts at enemy vehicles and Titans, while on the ground, Skitarii Cohorts from both sides were engaged in brutal fighting, neither army willing to give ground. Meanwhile, the Titans of Legio Lex stood as towering guardians over their respective charges, blasting the enemy with missiles and main weapons fire.

The Exploratores war engines were mostly Reavers and Warhounds, with half a dozen Warlords to support them. The Orationes engines were more or less the same ratio of classes, with perhaps a few more Warlords.

Kaius approached the defensive line, his feet causing miniature quakes along the dry, blasted plain. A nearby cannon tower exploded from missile fire, throwing up a plume of crimson fire. He spotted a group of enemy Skitarii rushing towards the trenches, and responded by leveling his Gatling Blaster at them. He spooled the six barrels for a half second before unleashing a brief burst of super heavy rounds. They struck the cohort quicker than an eye blink, reducing them to nothing and throwing a cloud of dust into the air.

He then spotted an enemy Warhound Titan quickly striding towards him. He stepped over the manned trenches, answering the smaller war engine's challenge. It fired at him with its Plasma Blastguns, and Kaius could feel the energy rounds striking him, but his Void Shields absorbed the damage.

He responded by reaching down and punching the smaller Titan with his Power Claw. The blow was strong enough to knock the Warhound off of its feet, and it fell to the ground with a thud. Kaius then lifted one foot and stomped on one of its legs. The limb was crumpled like paper, and the Warhound suddenly became limp. Its Princeps was most likely unconscious or catatonic from the severity of the damage, and thus it was no longer a threat.

He returned his attention to the battle. Their line was holding, but it would not hold out forever. Turning to the right, he set his sights on an enemy Warlord which was encroaching on their right flank. Taking aim, he soon fired a barrage from one of his Apocalypse Missile Launchers.

They soared through the air, propelled towards their target at supersonic speeds. After two seconds had passed, they struck their target, slamming into the enemy Titan.

It became consumed in a cloud of smoke, and its Void Shields angrily flared as they absorbed most of the damage. A moment later, it emerged through the smoke, its right side glowing from the impacts of missiles that had struck after its shielding failed. The two giants soon squared off, trading weapons fire like the gods of old in the midst of the greater battle. Kaius unleashed a sustained burst from his Gatling Blaster, seeing the rounds striking at the enemy's hull while his own was protected by his Void Shields. They would not last for much longer, however.

Establishing a Vox link with a nearby maniple of Reaver Titans, Kaius said "Strike at the enemy while he is distracted. Drive him back."

It was not long before the trio of Reavers charged forth, striking the enemy Warlord's flank with several bursts of plasma and missiles. He buckled under the combined assault, hastily bidding a retreat.

Kaius continued to lead their forces, strengthening any gaps in their lines or applying overwhelming force at enemy weak points.

Under his superhuman leadership, the Exploratores Titans and Skitarii bled the enemy force, fighting with such efficiency that not even the enemy Tech Priests could keep up. However, while most of the enemy force was overwhelmed by Kaius' strategies, there were some who fought with zeal and fury to match any force.

The Knights of House Aurelius.

Descended from Portentia's first colonists and controlling war mechs that hailed from the Age of Technology, the zenith of Mankind's technological prowess, the Knights charged into battle in combat walkers that, while nowhere near as large as the smallest class of Titan, were fearsome enemies.

When the Schism had first erupted, almost half of the Forge World's military forces had joined the Exploratores. House Aurelius, however, had staunchly refused, choosing to honour their ancient sires' oaths of fealty to Portentia's reigning Fabricator-General.

To them, that was Horatior Flaccum, and they counted among his most elite and deadly fighting force.

However, even their legendary ferocity was not enough to save them. Kaius, leading from the front in _Mechanicus Rex_ , gave the Exploratores more than enough of an edge, and it was not long before the Orationes army was falling back in a general retreat.

Emboldened by the victory, Kaius led his forces in pursuit of their fleeing enemy, further bleeding them. Eventually, though, he called for a halt; they could not afford to drift too far from Manufactorum Tarsis, but they fell back with the knowledge that they had won a great victory.

They had been at the edge of ruin, but through Kaius' leadership, they had prevailed.

All in all, ten of the enemy's Titans were brought low. They were not destroyed, only damaged or incapacitated, giving the Exploratores the advantage in terms of raw strength. The captured Princeps would be forced to join them or be executed for their lack of vision. Either way, their Titans were a mighty boon.

The Macroclades of Skitarii roared in triumph, and the Titans fired their weapons into the air as well. Then, all of them turned to look at _Mechanicus Rex_ , bowing out of respect for its Princeps, the Fabricator-General of Manufactorum Tarsis and undisputed leader of the Exploratores.

During the celebrations, a single cry of unity and loyalty to their leader rang out across the land: "All hail the Scion of the Machine God!"

* * *

And so, we get a glimpse of Kaius in his prime, which, for a Primarch, lasts forever. This also gave me the chance to show just how he is unique when compared to the others. Perturabo may have had his own super-heavy tank, but Kaius gets his own Titan!

Teefplucka - Technically, you are correct. However, Rhokan lives in a feudal society, and there has to be a certain degree of historical fabrication when it comes to their history. Also, given the (suitably) chaotic effects on realspace by the Warp, and given how Makandrascar orbits a Warp Rift, I would bet that Khorne or Sathu'khar would mess with the flow of time so as to create the perfect hunting ground. The people might remember enduring Daemonic incursions for 7, 000 years, but that might only be a few centuries in the rest of the galaxy. When the Warp intrudes on reality, the passage of time gets a little wonky. I hope this helps.

Please review and favourite!


	8. A New Paradigm

Manufactorum Croesus was the largest manufacturing centre on Portentia, covering approximately forty percent of the first continent. Its vast production facilities were responsible for creating truly astonishing quantities of weapons, vehicles, cybernetics, and vat-grown bodies that were the source of the planet's Servitors. It also housed the facilities that were responsible for constructing most of the Titans on the world. The Manufactorum was the centre of Fabricator-General Horatior Flaccum's power, and he ruled from the grand temple of Magnus Oratio Templum. It was there that Lucratio Moran had declared the Exploratores' separation.

And it was currently under siege.

The Orationes had gambled on defeating the rebellious Exploratores in one swift stroke, throwing almost everything they had against Manufactorum Tarsis. It had very nearly worked, and their infected Servitors had managed to assassinate Lucratio Moran, the founder of the movement. Horatior Flaccum and his allies had believed that, without their leader, they would simply collapse and the old paradigm would be re-established.

That was the intended effect, but the old paradigm Priesthood of Portentia had failed to account for one crucial factor: Kaius Caesarius.

The protégé of Lucratio Moran, Kaius had quickly assumed command of the Exploratores' forces and beaten back the attack, single-handedly commanding a Warlord-Class Titan, no less.

In the ten years that followed, the rebels had not only recovered, but they were gaining ground and momentum at an unprecedented rate.

Kaius Caesarius, self-proclaimed Fabricator-General of Manufactorum Tarsis and hailed by his faction as the 'Scion of the Machine God', proved to be the deciding factor in the centuries-old Schism. His preternatural wisdom and knowledge, combined with his superb talents as a general and warrior, allowed him to lead his forces to victory after victory.

There was no battle he could not win, no enemy he could not defeat. He applied overwhelming force against his enemies while always striking for their commander, a strategy that proved to be all-too effective.

It was as Lucratio Moran had told him in his younger years: "An enemy is never truly defeated until their leader is broken and shown to be weak."

The lesson served him well.

But Kaius did more than just wage a successful campaign. As the years passed, he managed to do the one thing that even the great Lucratio Moran had not been able to do: unite the neutral factions of Portentia.

The two warring factions did not represent the only forges on the planet, for several dozen of the others refused to be brought into, what they perceived to be, pointless struggle. However, the Scion of the Machine God once again did the impossible. He met with each of the Manufactorums' leaders, swaying them with promises of mechanical piety and convincing them that it was better to end the war and move on to venerating the Machine God through invention and industry.

None could deny the truth of his words. His very voice seemed to carry the authority of the Machine God, and before him, all were nothing but humble listeners attending their teacher.

Soon enough, most of Portentia was united under the banner of Kaius Caesarius, and only Manufactorum Croesus stood as a stubborn bastion of the old way and the shackles of tradition.

The Exploratores then launched a mighty siege of the Manufactorum, throwing countless Macroclades of Skitarii and near full-strength Titans of Legio Lex against its formidable defenses. Despite the ferocity and unflinching devotion of both sides, every Tech Priest on the planet knew that it was only a matter of time before the outcome was certain.

* * *

Kaius strode across the battlefield, striking down his enemies. He was a colossus of war, the very embodiment of the Machine God's power. He saw through the eyes of _Mechanicus Rex_ , destroying Orationes vehicles and obliterating groups of Skitarii with its weapons. For all intents and purposes, he was _Mechanicus Rex_. Through the neural link, the two were combined into a single being, an avatar of knowledge and power.

The Titan's Machine Spirit never refused a command, never failed to give him control. After the Fifth Battle of Manufactorum Tarsis, which had seen him rise to command the Exploratores, a replacement Princeps and command crew were sought after, but _Mechanicus Rex_ simply refused to be controlled by anyone other than Kaius.

The result of this was that the leader of the Exploratores charged into battle with his own personal god-engine, a further sign of his holy purpose.

Lifting a leg, he brought it down and crushed a group of Skitarii into paste. Sensing movement to the left, he turned and saw a pair of Reaver-Class Titans advancing towards him. With a thought, he brought his Titan's Gatling Blaster to bear, unleashing a sustained burst of fire against the Reaver on the right. Its Void Shields absorbed the initial rounds, but the endless stream soon overwhelmed its defenses, and the Adamantium plating was battered and pounded into scrap. The Reaver stumbled back before collapsing onto an enemy fortification.

The second Reaver managed to get close enough to land a strike with a Power Claw. Kaius felt the strike as a spike of pain through the neural link, but to his superhuman body, the pain was as a pinprick to a battle tank.

He struck back by grabbing the other Titan's head with his own Power Claw and using his god-like strength to crush it, killing the other's command crew. He let the mighty corpse fall before him.

Stretching across the front of Manufactorum Croesus, the Exploratores' military might was struggling against the stubborn defenses of the Orationes. The zone of engagement stretched for miles and miles, from coast to coast, pitting Titan against Titan, Skitarii against Skitarii. All of Portentia's armed forces were engaged in this battle, and the fate of the world would be decided here.

With the support of all the other Manufactorums, Kaius now had the majority of Titans. All those that were left were currently fighting for their lives.

For most of the Schism, the forces of Horatior Flaccum had possessed the numerical superiority, but that was now lost to them.

Kaius voxed a nearby trio of Warlord-Class Titans. "Brothers, if we focus our firepower along this point, we will force a breach through their fortifications." He sent them the coordinates of where he had calculated the weakest point of the Manufactorum's walls would be.

A moment later, he received their responses. "Understood" _Fidei Invictus_ replied.

"Received" _Virtus Aeterna_ said.

"On our way" _Sanguis Furor_ came back.

Within moments, the three Titans joined him in front of the weak spot of the kilometre-high defensive wall. The four of them stood in a line, four gods of war towering above all others as they prepared to deliver righteous destruction on their enemies.

"Prepare to fire" Kaius ordered, targeting the vulnerability with both of his Apocalypse Missile Launchers. The others did the same. Once he was satisfied, he said "Fire."

The four Warlord Titans unleashed a truly cataclysmic barrage of missiles from all their launchers, creating a dense cloud from all their collected smoke trails. The missiles struck the target en masse, completely obliterating the metres-thick plating in an awesome display of pure destruction. The force of the explosion caused the power generators located behind the striking point to detonate, causing an even greater explosion that consumed half a mile of the wall.

When the smoke cleared, there was a vast opening in their enemies' defenses. Kaius quickly gave the order to move up, and his forces began pouring in through the gap. For the first time in the planet's history, Manufactorum Croesus had been breached.

Over the next few hours, Kaius and the other Titans spearheaded the invasion of the Manufactorum, plowing through opposing fortifications and infantry and vehicle formations. Under his keen leadership, the Exploratores drove deep into their enemy's stronghold.

Soon, they would be at the doorstep of the Magnus Oratio Templum itself.

* * *

Horatior Flaccum, Fabricator-General of Portentia, gazed out at the endless forges of Manufactorum Croesus, the mightiest manufacturing centre on the planet, from the pinnacle of the Forge World's greatest temple. It had stood for millennia as the embodiment of technological production and religious piety. In the forging chambers and the temples alike, the priests of the Mechanicum had prayed and ruminated on thoughts of the divine.

Now, that perfection was marred by the fires of war.

The Priesthood of Portentia, along with the Skitarii and Titan Legions, had been forever sundered when Lucratio Moran had selfishly led many of their best and brightest into rebellion for the sake of reckless emotion and forbidden endeavours.

The Fabricator-General had fervently wished that his old brother priest would return to the fold, but centuries had passed, and logic led him to abandon that hope.

The Machine God rewarded those who spent their time in silent contemplation, not in illogical quests of fancy. For He was knowledge itself, and how can one truly acquire knowledge without finding it within themselves? For a time, it seemed as if He was content to let those who followed the correct path restore the peace. When Lucratio Moran had died, Horatior Flaccum had once again dared to hope, despite the fact that he was more machine now than man.

That hope had quickly faded.

Not only had the gambit failed, but it also had sparked a resurgence of rebel activity. Under Lucratio's protégé, Kaius Caesarius, the Tech Heretek who blasphemed against their God by calling himself the "Scion of the Machine God", had somehow rallied the Exploratores' forces and led them to victory after victory.

He had also united the previously neutral forges, coalescing into a single, massive army that was even now driving its way into the Manufactorum.

The Fabricator-General gazed out at the cityscape through his ocular implants, their advanced visual tech allowing him to accurately identify the allied and enemy units that were fighting even now. Great fires raged as Skitarii and Titans clashed, tearing through the ancient structures. The rebel general was making an effort to avoid destruction in the more vital areas, but there was intense fighting all over.

In this war, everyone had learned long ago that mercy was not a luxury, but a liability.

He turned and fixed his mechanical gaze on the hololithic projection of the battle zones, which were many and spread out. Gathered around the projector were his top subordinate Tech Priests and military commanders. After breaching the outer wall, Caesarius had led the charge deep into the Manufactorum. After establishing a forward base in one of the administration centres, he had begun to divide his forces so as to cover as much ground as possible.

That would prove to be his downfall.

"The Rebel has divided his forces" Titus, the faithful Skitarii Commander, said, gesturing to the tendrils of red that represented the Exploratores incursion. "Our Augur Arrays have identified him leading an assault against Forging Chamber 327-Upsilon-5. He has left his Titan behind."

"We must eliminate him at best possible speed" Archmagos Trakotkiv said, the scientific instruments sprouting from his chin tapping against his metallic chest. "He is the heart of this rebellion, and they will cease to be a threat without his leadership."

The Fabricator-General said nothing for a moment, then "We must place our faith in the Machine God. He will provide for us. I approve of this plan. I calculate that he has less than a 3.24% chance of survival against a surgical strike. No mortal could survive. The Machine God provides."

"The Machine God provides" the others echoed.

He then turned to High Lord Octaviar of House Aurelius. "Unleash your Knights."

* * *

Kaius wrenched the galvanic rifle from a Skitarius before using his Claw Mechadendrite to grab its head. With a mental command through the MIU link, he lifted the enemy soldier off of the ground before applying pressure with the claw. It crushed the man's head like a grape, squirting blood and brain matter.

He released his hold, letting the corpse fall to the ground and discarding the rifle.

Once he and his forces had secured one of the chief administration centres of the Manufactorum, he had begun to dispatch various elements of his army across the cityscape to secure it while he led the primary drive towards the Magnus Oratio Templum. At the moment, they were assaulting one of the forging chambers along the way, slowly advancing metre by metre.

Kaius' enhanced and mechanical sight from his organic and bionic eyes, respectively, saw a pair of Combat Servitors nearby. He took aim with his Plasma Mechadendrites and, after charging them for seven seconds, discharged a pair of plasma rounds.

They struck the Servitors dead-centre, vaporizing them. Kaius' lips curled into a slight smile, pleased that his innovation had proven to be so successful.

The fighting continued, with Exploratores Skitarii units leading the charge while supported with Ordinatus vehicles and artillery pieces. The avenues in this part of the Manufactorum were too narrow to properly bring any Titans to bear, and Kaius did not want to cause any excess damage to its production capabilities. As a result, he had left _Mechanicus Rex_ behind, but was still leading his troops from the front.

Just as they came within half a mile of the forging chamber, his superhuman senses detected a very particular mechanical clanking sound. He turned around, seeing the Skitarii units advancing along the avenue in ordered formations.

Suddenly, a towering construct emerged into the avenue, resplendent in black and silver and dressed in fine livery celebrating a hundred victorious battles.

The Knight of House Aurelius sliced a nearby Ordinatus vehicle in half with its Reaper Chainsword before slaying several dozen infantry with its Battle Cannon. The Knight was an avatar of death, a warrior of unparalleled skill and belief.

Several more suddenly appeared, and the head of the column was devastated by Battle Cannon and missile fire, while Reaper Chainswords sliced through any vehicle in sight.

Kaius took aim with his Plasma Mechadendrites and fired at a nearby Knight. It turned to face him just as the brilliant blue rounds shot through the air, and the towering construct braced itself. The plasma was suddenly stopped by a flash of energy, which he knew was the Knight's Ion Shields in action. The technology was ancient, and operated by projecting in a narrow arc which could be oriented by the pilot.

With its attention now focused on him, Kaius saw the enemy Knight moving in slow motion as it took aim. He quickly leaped away from the pile of rubble upon which he stood, dodging the shot from the Battle Cannon.

He then gave an order in Lingua-Technis to a group of Combat Servitors who were behind the Knight. They responded instantly, leaping onto the combat exoskeleton and crawling on its back like arachnids moving in for the kill. The pilot, realizing that he needed to act fast, began violently moving and shaking, attempting to dislodge the Servitors.

A few were thrown off, but the rest held firm, driving their implanted drills and swords into its body.

A squad of Gun Servitors lumbered over to Kaius' side, and he pointed at the distressed Knight as he gave and order in Lingua-Technis. They opened fire with their autocannons, unleashing sustained volleys that, combined with the Combat Servitors' attacks, brought down the larger target.

Another nearby Knight noticed this and responded by firing a barrage of missiles. The first of them struck the ground at Kaius' feet, and the kinetic force of the impact threw him back several feet. He was disoriented for a moment, but that quickly passed. The next thing that struck him was the spike of pain in his throat, and he felt at it with his hand. The flesh was shredded by shrapnel, and the wound was bleeding profusely. Kaius attempted to speak, but all that came out was a hoarse gurgle.

While he knew the wound would eventually heal, he also knew that it was very serious. Luckily, a Skitarii Ranger Squad appeared, and four of their number helped him to stand. Their Alpha fired off several shots with his Arc Pistol and said "Fabricator-General, we must fall back!"

Currently unable to speak, Kaius nodded, and he and the troops of this thrust of the campaign retreated. They were pursued by the Knights for some time, but eventually they were forced back by friendly artillery and Titan units.

* * *

Kaius was quickly ushered into a Medicus Chamber within the forward command centre. His four Mechadendrites were removed, and he was then placed on an operating table. It took half a dozen Servitors to lift him onto the table.

While he felt quite the amount of pain, he was fully conscious and alert. He imagined that a normal man would have lost consciousness by now, or would have bled out, but he was no normal man.

Artisan Markovius rushed into the chamber, wasting no time in commanding the Servitors. As he was the sole Tech Priest that applied Kaius' implants, he was the only choice for battlefield injuries. He went to work immediately, using his hands and Mechadendrites to repair the damage to Kaius' throat. It was extensive, and the shrapnel had driven deep into the flesh, destroying the vocal cords and lacerating the trachea.

In the end, the Tech Priest replaced the organic parts. The surgery lasted for three hours.

Eventually, Kaius sat up and got off the table. "You have…" he started to say, stopping mid-sentence as he realized that his voice was different.

His original intonations and pitch were completely gone, and now his voice was much deeper and more resonant. The filtered quality made him sound much more machine-like. He felt his throat with his left hand, and cold metal greeted his fingers. He walked over to a Servitor with a mirror extending from one of its eye sockets and examined the implant. His throat was now entirely metallic, with a glowing Vox-grill that ran down the middle that replaced his vocal cords.

Kaius turned to the other Tech Priest and said "You have done well, Artisan."

"It is my privilege to attend to the Scion of the Machine God" Markovius replied.

Now that his injury had been dealt with, Kaius departed from the Medicus Chamber, with the Artisan close behind. "What is the progress of the conquest?"

"All goes well. The Skitarii commanders and Archmagi report success on all fronts."

"Has Archmagos Cruciax assaulted the Fortress of House Aurelius?"

"Not as of yet. He was planning to launch the attack within the next solar rotation."

"Inform him to fall back to Checkpoint Tertius. I have another plan."

Within the hour, Kaius departed from the forward base, and much to the chagrin of his senior commanders, he traveled alone, apart from a pair of Praetorian Servitors. Flanked by his vigilant and lethal bodyguards, he made his way through the war-torn streets and abandoned buildings. Much of the Manufactorum had been evacuated to the central, defended zones, leaving whole swathes of the vast cityscape completely empty.

Eventually, though, he began to approach his destination. The Fortress of House Aurelius was the oldest structure on Portentia, having been erected long before the Mechanicum had come to the world. It stood as a bastion of strength and power, a looming monolith dedicated to an ancient dynasty that celebrated a hundred thousand glorious victories and distinguished ancestors.

The colours of the house, black and silver, were prominent, along with banners that displayed the eagle wings that were transposed over the cog symbol of the Mechanicus. As Kaius came closer and closer to the fortress, he could feel the history exuding from it.

Just as he came within a kilometre of the fortress, a number of Aurelius Knights came out to greet him. They did not attack on sight, which was fortuitous for him.

However, they did level their weapons at him, no doubt ready to reduce him to mechanic/organic paste.

Four Knights were on either side, ready for combat, while a fifth strode towards him from the centre. This one was far more decorated than its fellows, dressed in banners woven from fine golden thread that displayed a hundred victorious battles as well as bearing a rust-coloured stripe across the top of the armour.

This must have been the head of the house, High Lord Octaviar.

"I demand that you explain your presence here" the lordly Knight said, his voice deep and booming. Nowhere near as much as a Titan, but it was still an effective tool that could have cowed lesser men.

The leader of the Exploratores gazed up at the imposing exoskeleton, standing firm. "I have a proposal for you."

"Fabricator-General Flaccum has decreed that you are an enemy of Portentia. He has commanded us to end your life for the good of all."

"Then by all means, do so" Kaius replied, holding his arms to the side. "After all, I am merely one man who is no threat to you at this moment. Strike me down, if your house no longer values honour."

"How dare you!" The lord took a step forward, then forced himself to stop. After a long moment, he said "Speak, and if you disrespect my house again, I will destroy you."

Kaius nodded. "I propose a duel. You and me. Just us, fighting for honour and the fate of our people and our world."

"Go on."

"Your Knights and my forces will be in attendance so that the result is not in doubt. If I am the victor, then your house will swear fealty to me, now and forever."

Octaviar snorted in derision. "And if I am the victor, then I shall bring you before the Fabricator-General."

Kaius nodded his assent.

"What are the terms of this duel?"

"We both may use whatever we wish in regards to weapons. You are welcome to fight in your battle suit, if you wish." For a while, there was nothing but silence, with neither of them giving any sign of weakness before the other.

Eventually, Octaviar took a step back. "Very well. I accept your terms. At daybreak tomorrow, we shall meet in combat. Enjoy your final day of freedom."

With that, the Knights walked back to their fortress, and Kaius turned to walk away.

* * *

The following morning, the duel was set to begin. Just before sunrise, the Knights of House Aurelius and the Skitarii of the Exploratores gathered along the rim of a wide open public square. Both sides were tense and wary of each other, but they were also both highly disciplined and would not start fighting unless expressly commanded.

High Lord Octaviar strode into the square, resplendent in his combat exoskeleton which shone even in the pre-morning darkness. As was his reputation, he was a man of his word.

Kaius knew that insulting his pride was the best way to manipulate him into an honour duel, and the results were just what he had desired: the Knight felt that he had something to prove, which left him in a vulnerable, emotional, position.

As the first hints of sunlight crept over the horizon, Octaviar voxed him. "Well, 'Scion of the Machine God', will you show yourself?"

"I will" Kaius replied, walking towards the square. The Skitarii and Tech Priests in attendance parted before him in a wide opening, allowing him to enter the square. The Knights all looked up at him.

"What is the meaning of this?" Octaviar demanded through the Vox. "You dishonourable cur! You have broken the terms of our agreement!"

"I have broken nothing. I am the only one piloting this Titan. We could have chosen any weapon we wanted, and I chose this." Kaius took another step forward, causing the ground to quake as his gargantuan body towered over most of the nearby buildings. _Mechanicus Rex_ stood in glorious might, many times larger than its opponent. The daylight grew and grew until the golden disk of Portentia's sun, Larus, crested over the horizon. "It is daybreak. Now, do you still want to fight, or will you forfeit your House to me?"

That spurred Octaviar into action, and the Knight immediately charged towards him.

Kaius knew that his opponent was too fast for missiles or Gatling Blaster fire, which left only melee strikes as his only option. Octaviar was quickly approaching one of his legs, perhaps in an effort to cripple him while firing with his Battle Cannon. Briefly pondering whether that was possible with his superior mind, he decided to leave it as conjecture before aiming a kick with his left leg.

The Knight, seeing the oncoming wall of Adamantium that was Kaius' leg, tried to dodge, but he was not quite fast enough. The Titan's foot struck him in the left side with a great clang, causing him to spin and crash into the side of a building.

Kaius turned _Mechanicus Rex_ so that it was facing the Knight. He reached down and grabbed him with the Power Claw the way a child would grab a toy before crushing his opponent into the ground. Octaviar's exoskeleton was severely crushed, but he was still moving. Kaius rectified that by stomping his opponent, grinding him into bloody wreckage.

With that, the duel was over.

He looked over at the rest of the Aurelius Knights, who appeared ready to attack. His forces were preparing for hostilities when he said "Knights, your High Lord agreed that if I won this contest, your house would swear fealty to me. Now, honour his agreement." His voice boomed across the square, putting an end to any potential fighting.

The black and silver Knights then approached, kneeling before him. "We do henceforth swear undying loyalty to you, Kaius Caesarius. We swear to obey your every command and never take up arms against you, your allies, or those who serve you. We and our descendants will honour this pledge from this day through eternity. House Aurelius is yours."

* * *

With the absorption of House Aurelius, the conquest of Manufactorum Croesus resumed with unparalleled efficiency and power. All enemies of the Exploratores were ruthlessly put to death if they did not join them, and soon enough the only bastion for the Orationes was the Magnus Oratio Templum. The temple to the Machine God was besieged, but the attackers were careful to not damage the ancient structure too much.

By mid-day after the third day of the siege, Kaius led his forces as they breached the temple's lower levels. The defenders fought back fiercely, claiming many Skitarii and even a few Tech Priests, but under the superb leadership of Kaius Caesarius, the Exploratores were unstoppable.

Kaius soon found himself in the temple's highest level, flanked by a pair of Praetorian Servitors as he led several Skitarii in assaulting the structure's peak where Horatior Flaccum was sequestered.

He took aim with his Plasma Mechadendrites and fired at a pair of mounted turrets that were spewing endless torrents of autocannon rounds. The plasma rounds struck their targets, melting them into unrecognizable heaps of slag. With them now silent, he ordered his troops forward. They advanced down the corridor against enemy fire whilst returning every shot.

To Kaius' left, a Skitarii Ranger was shot and killed, and his comrades did not react, stepping over his corpse as they relentlessly drove forward.

The Praetorian Servitors that served as his personal protection unleashed their own volleys, one with an autocannon and the other with a Melta. Enemy soldiers were perforated and vaporized, their corpses pitilessly crushed by their killers' tank treads.

Eventually, Kaius and his troops came to the sanctum doors, which were decorated with magnificent depictions of the Machine God and Portentia's glorious history. Once the last of the defenders were slain, he had the doors forcibly opened.

He stepped through the door, suddenly awash in the sunlight that streamed in between the thick columns that served as the room's wall. There was an altar to the Machine God that faced north, and the only other fixture present was a large hololithic projector in the centre.

And that was where Fabricator-General Horatior Flaccum stood.

The aged Tech Priest made no move to flee, nor any kind of attack; he understood that there was nowhere to run, nothing to do in the face of such a foe. For the first time in his life, the old traditionalist truly grasped the inevitable march towards progress that the Exploratores represented.

"Horatior Flaccum" Kaius said, casually walking around the projector.

"Kaius Caesarius" the other priest said. His glowing ocular implants tracked his movements as he stood straight, the countless mechanical implants enhancing his profile considerably.

"The Orationes are finished. We have been vindicated by the Machine God Himself."

Flaccum calmly turned and walked over to the altar. "You so-called 'Exploratores' are nothing but Hereteks" he said, gazing at the holy artifacts of metal and oil. "Guilty of blasphemy against our God."

"Lucratio Moran's vision for this world has finally been realized" Kaius countered. "It has finally been united like never before in the belief of progress and innovation."

"Lucratio Moran was insane. For countless decades, he was a faithful adept of the Machine God. All that changed after he received a supposed 'vision' from Him. He was told that the true path of wisdom, of knowledge, was to break the sacred strictures of our order and explore the forbidden and the heretical. He believed the Machine God had spoken to him and was called the 'Architect of Knowledge'. He was deranged."

Kaius came to stand only a few feet behind the other priest, easily towering over him. "He was a visionary who desired greatness for us and our home. And I have carried out his vision. There is only one thing left to do."

With that, he stabbed his Drill Mechadendrite through Horatior Flaccum's back and clear through the other side, spewing blood and guts over the altar. The Orationes leader gave a pained cry, his Vox-grill faltering as his body suffered catastrophic damage. With his foe skewered, Kaius turned around and walked towards the hololithic projector. He set it to transmit a signal across the entire planet.

"Denizens of Portentia, heed my words" he began, holding Flaccum up like a hunter displaying a prize trophy. "This is Fabricator-General Horatior Flaccum, leader of the Orationes. He is defeated, broken. His beliefs aided him not in this war, because the Machine God was always with us, the Exploratores. To all Orationes who remain, I urge you to surrender your arms and join us. We represent progress and the will of the Machine God. Horatior Flaccum represents the trappings of the past."

He capitalized his statement by aiming with one of his Plasma Mechadendrites and completely vaporizing his enemy's head. With that, the Portentian Schism was ended, and a new age dawned.

* * *

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	9. The Wolf and the Priest

Kaius strode through the long corridor, escorted by a squad of Skitarii Protectors. Their red robes fluttered as they walked, and their bronze masks with green mechanical eyes were marks of their station, along with their Taser Staves.

He was garbed in a long, rust-coloured robe that dragged across the floor as he walked. His Mechadendrites protruded from his back through an opening in arachnoid fashion.

Thirty years had passed since the final victory over the Orationes. Normally, such time affected a Tech Priest very little due to their heavily augmented bodies, but Kaius still had most of his organic parts.

Three decades had not affected him in the slightest, and his cells were continually regenerating. The reason for this was his superhuman genome, which, along with his superior mind and god-like strength, allowed him to remain at peak health and vitality.

With the execution of Horatior Flaccum, Portentia was, at last, united. Kaius was proclaimed the new Fabricator-General of the Forge World. Under his leadership, the damage wrought by the Schism was mended: Manufactorums were repaired, and for the first time in centuries, the Skitarii Legion and Legio Lex were finally reunited after countless battles fought against each other.

However, that was only the beginning, for Kaius had a vision for his homeworld, a vision that he would see realized.

The Priesthood of Portentia, all of them now a member of the Exploratores, began exploring new paths of science and discovery. Along with traditional methods of developing Bolters and bionic implants and cybernetic Servitors, there were constantly emerging plans and additions to existing technology. Much was still only theoretical, but great discoveries were being made.

Kaius, along with his bodyguards, entered the mechanical lift. The doors closed, and the lift shot upwards.

What had begun as a vision of the future was now arguably Kaius' most ambitious endeavour to date.

Not long after the final conquest of Manufactorum Croesus, he and his brother priests had made a shocking discovery beneath the Magnus Oratio Templum. Thousands of years ago, according to the Mechanicum's oldest records, their ancient predecessors had settled Portentia, having arrived in space-worthy vessels. It had long been believed that those vessels had been either destroyed or used for material to construct the Manufactorums.

One of them was still intact.

A lowly Lexmechanic, sifting through ancient data in an effort to discover any kind of ancient knowledge that the Exploratores could benefit from, had stumbled upon a data slate that made passing mention of the spacecraft. He had brought his discovery to the attention of his superior, who had brought it before Kaius, who ordered a full investigation into the matter.

After nearly half a decade of fruitless searching, they had finally found it buried deep underground, beneath the very centre of Manufactorum Croesus.

Now, finally, it was ready for its first flight in 2, 000 years.

Kaius and his guards ascended in the lift, and he casually calculated both the speed at which they were traveling and the distance between them and the surface.

The discovery of the vessel had been the easy part; it had taken an enormous effort over the span of three years to dig it out, while at the same time constructing a functional spaceport in orbit and a connecting space elevator. Much of the last few decades had been spent working towards this moment, and thought Kaius was a devout worshipper of the Machine God and valued knowledge above all else, he was inwardly excited for his vision to come true.

Eventually, the lift came to a halt, and the door opened to reveal the spaceport that had only just been deemed operational. As Kaius and his guards walked through the wide corridors, they encountered swarms of Servitors led by minor Tech Priests who were welding bulkheads together or connecting electrical systems or installing artificial gravity generators in unfinished rooms.

Every Tech Priest and Skitarii that they encountered parted before them, bowing as they walked by.

Here, an Enginseer prayed to a Machine Spirit as he installed its cogitator in a cloud of incense. There, a group of hunch-backed Servitors silently shuffled along the floor, bearing supplies meant for other sectors.

Soon enough, this place would be host to countless Skitarii and Tech Priests, and Kaius would ensure that it was continually expanded until it included dry-dock facilities that were capable of constructing newer void ships that incorporated all of their latest innovations and discoveries.

They entered the vessel through the completed airlock, stepping into a construct that pre-dated their Forge World.

It was utterly massive, at least several hundred metres in length. It took some time to navigate their way through its interior. The ship's hull, while worn by millennia of neglect, was painted in black and red, colours which were currently being brightened. Its size was impressive, but not as much as its weaponry, which consisted of four turrets which had the designations Lance-1 through Lance-4, a massive cannon mounted to the prow, and a row of Macrocannons on the starboard and port sides of the ship.

They finally reached the bridge, where Artisan Markovius was overseeing several priests who were busy at the control systems. From a cursory glance, Kaius could tell that they were slowly bringing the mighty vessel back to life.

"Artisan Markovius" he greeted as he walked over to the fellow priest, the Vox-grill that had replaced his vocal cords making his voice deep and mechanically resonant. "How goes your work?"

"Fabricator-General" Markovius uttered, bowing to him. "Our progress is satisfactory. Though this vessel has been interred for millennia, all of its workings are based on familiar Mechanicum patterns. We are in the process of bringing them online as we speak."

Kaius nodded, pleased at his brother priest's work.

He took a moment to examine the bridge. It was roughly circular in shape, with four semicircular crew pits located at each corner. Each of them featured four stations that were placed in straight-edged alcoves, and Kaius recognized the overall Mechanicum cog shape in the room's design. In between the crew pits, the floor ran from side to side and up and down, with a control throne in the very centre that faced the viewport.

The Fabricator-General recognized the throne as the same type that allowed a Princeps to control a Titan god-engine.

"How soon until this vessel is fully operational?" Kaius asked, looking at Markovius.

"I estimate no more than three days. We can begin to—"

He was suddenly cut off as the ship's alarm began wailing, accompanied by flashing strobe lighting that bathed the bridge in crimson.

"Status report" Kaius demanded.

"The ship's Augur Arrays are detecting incoming vessels approaching at sub-light speeds. A few are similar in design to this vessel, but the others are of unknown patterns" one of the Tech Priests reported. "They will be within weapons range in less than one hour."

Markovius' Mechadendrites twitched. "Why weren't we alerted sooner?"

"The main Augur Array was not functioning until now" the other priest replied.

A Transmechanic at one of the communication terminals said "Fabricator-General, we are receiving a transmission from the lead vessel."

Kaius and Markovius exchanged a glance, and then the former said "Put it through."

There was a moment of silence, and then a filtered voice spoke in the staccato bursts of code that was Lingua-Technis " _Mechanicum vessel, this is Archmagos Explorator Krakzon. Long has been your isolation, but you can now rejoice. We have come to return your Forge World to the fold. Swear allegiance to the Fabricator-General of Mars, and you will bring glory to the Cult Mechanicus and to the Imperium of Man._ "

Everyone on the bridge was entirely still, none of them daring to make a sound. Kaius absorbed the information he had just been given, pondering every possibility. If what this Archmagos Krakzon said was true, then…

"Mars." Artisan Markovius said, uttering the name in awe.

Kaius understood, and felt his brother priest's amazement. He had, of course, read of the original Forge World in Portentia's oldest archive. Mars, the birthplace of the Mechanicum and the starting point of the original expedition which had settled their world. It was almost preposterous to believe, but the evidence before them was incontrovertible.

"What of this 'Imperium of Man' that he spoke of?" Kaius asked, sharing a glance with Markovius.

"I know not, Fabricator-General. But if they expect us to swear allegiance to another, then they are sorely mistaken." The other Tech Priest had the Transmechanic establish contact with the other vessels and replied "We answer to no ruler but the Scion of the Machine God. Any who would challenge his rule is our enemy."

Kaius stared out the windows, noticing with his gene-enhanced and mechanical eyes the swarm of fist-sized black dots slowly growing larger. He already knew what their response was going to be before it happened.

"They are powering weapons" another Transmechanic reported.

* * *

Archmagos Explorator Krakzon, a venerable Tech Priest who had borne witness to countless of the galaxy's horrors as well as long-forgotten technological wonders, stared ahead as he piloted the Mechanicus Cruiser, _Omnissiah's Vision_. The fleet had translated back into realspace after a successful Warp jump, and was now moving towards their destination.

According to the archives of Mars, this Forge World was called Portentia, and by now it would have built a modest industrial complex that would serve to bolster the burgeoning Imperium of Man.

Not only would the Mechanicum reunite with one of its lost worlds, but also the Imperium would gain yet another source of military production.

But this was not a standard reunification mission, for the Explorator Fleet had been accompanied by another grouping of vessels.

Krakzon had wanted to object, but no mortal would ever refuse the Legiones Astartes.

As the two fleets moved past the Larusian System's third, outer planet, the Archmagos heard one of the bridge access doors sliding open. Heavy, pounding footfalls, metal against metal, told him that it could only be one man, and that was a poor descriptor.

"Krakzon" the gruff, bestial voice curtly greeted.

"My lord" the Tech Priest responded. Though he had sloughed off the majority of his organic flesh over the centuries, even he was not immune from the sense of unease that pervaded one's entire being when in the presence of one such as this. Luckily, Krakzon was connected to the control throne, and thus could not see the menacing, powerful figure that stood behind him.

"Approaching destination" a Transmechanic reported from one of the crew pits.

Another added "Augur Arrays detect a single void ship in orbit, currently docked at a rudimentary spacedock."

"Identify ship pattern" Krakzon ordered. He waited for no longer than a moment before the information began to display on a nearby terminal.

"Ark Mechanicus vessel. Scans reveal that it is running on minimal power."

Krakzon bowed his head. "Praise be to the Machine God for our brothers' acquisition of such an ancient ship." The other Tech Priests echoed his entreaty. A snort came from behind the control throne, but the Archmagos decided that it was best to ignore the slight. "Run a scan on the planet's surface" he ordered. "According to archival records and Logis predictions, this world should be at Delta-Level Industrial Output."

There was a brief lull as the scan was run, and there was a pause as the results were shown.

"Report."

"Archmagos," a Transmechanic said, almost sounding surprised, something an adept of the Mechanicum should never be, "scans indicate that Portentia is currently at Beta-Level Industrial Output."

Krakzon's cogitators, which had replaced portions of his brain, could not comply with the results. "That is impossible."

"Something the matter?" the gruff voice asked with a hint of amused mockery.

Ignoring the insulting tone, Krakzon decided his next course of action. "Initiate contact with the Ark Mechanicus vessel." Once the connection was established, he said in Lingua-Technis "Mechanicum vessel, this is Archmagos Explorator Krakzon. Long has been your isolation, but you can now rejoice. We have come to return your Forge World to the fold. Swear allegiance to the Fabricator-General of Mars, and you will bring glory to the Cult Mechanicus and to the Imperium of Man."

For several minutes, they waited. The veteran Explorator pondered the potential responses, eventually choosing the most likely that their brethren might choose.

What he heard was not one of them.

" _We answer to no one but the Scion of the Machine God. Any who would challenge his rule is our enemy_."

For a long moment, Krakzon was stunned. 'Scion of the Machine God'? Clearly, this Forge World was managed by a priesthood that was insane or heretical.

Either way, there was only one acceptable response.

"Have the fleet power weapons" he ordered, preparing himself for the battle to come. "Though we have the advantage of numbers, an Ark Mechanicus vessel is a formidable enemy." Just as the klaxons started blaring, the Explorator turned his head, his ocular implants providing him with greater peripheral vision than the average human. "My lord Primarch, we would be most grateful for your assistance."

"That, Tech Priest," Leman Russ, Primarch of the Space Wolves and son of the Emperor, said with a feral grin that bared his fangs, "is why I am here."

* * *

Kaius watched as the incoming vessels advanced like a pack of vicious predators. They obviously were betting on their superior numbers to overwhelm his single ship. He knew that any other commanding Tech Priest would not have been up to the challenge, but he was no ordinary Tech Priest.

He would answer their challenge.

"Bring weapons online and power up the main engines" he ordered. As the teams of Tech Priests went to work, he turned to Markovius. "Artisan, I require you to unlock my Mechadendrites."

"Of course, Fabricator-General" Markovius replied, quickly going to work. He disengaged the locks and neural connectors on each of the four mechanical limbs, proceeding to remove them from the receptor pads covering Kaius' spine.

Once they were removed, Kaius stepped over to the control throne. "What is this vessel's name?"

" _Wrath of the Omnissiah_ , your exaltedness" a Lexmechanic replied.

With that, he sat down in the throne, feeling the connectors as they plugged into his Mind Impulse Unit. As when he connected to the Titan _Mechanicus Rex_ , Kaius was suddenly awash with sensation and feeling.

Unlike connecting to a god-machine, however, he was not in total, complete control of the vessel. He could steer and manoeuvre, but the weapons and secondary systems were regulated by those in the crew pits.

He could feel the Machine Spirit of the void ship, a truly ancient intelligence that dwarfed any of the Titans of Legio Lex. It had slept for millennia, and now it was being roused to action once more. "Oh, mighty aspect of knowledge," Kaius began, "the time has come to awaken. The faithful require your awesome power once more to strike down our enemies. Oh, venerable font of wisdom, grant us your power for the glory of the Machine God."

The Machine Spirit, sensing his wisdom and willpower, acquiesced to his humble request, roaring to life for the first time since Portentia's colonization by the Mechanicum.

"Main engines online."

"Weapons coming online."

"All systems are go" Artisan Markovius reported.

Kaius nodded. "Very well. Disengage docking clamps." Once the ship was clear of the spacedock, he said "All ahead full." The _Wrath of the Omnissiah's_ engines burst with power, leaving flaming contrails as they propelled the ship forward. The gap between them and the enemy was decreasing, bit by bit, and the opening salvos would be any minute. Eventually, while still far away from the incoming fleets, Kaius sensed through the neural link that they were within range for the massive prow cannon. "Status of the prow cannon."

A moment, then "Systems identify it as a 'Nova Cannon', Fabricator-General. It is capable of firing a projectile at a fraction of the speed of light."

"Target the smaller forward vessels" he ordered, referring to the likely escort-class void ships that were running ahead of the main fleets. The priests in charge of the gunnery stations worked for several seconds, and eventually they gave the ready signal. "Fire."

The Nova Cannon fired, and the entire ship shook from the immense recoil. Targeting cogitators on the bridge calculated the projectile's likeliest striking point, and it was only a few seconds later that they could see a brilliant flash of blue light off in the distance. It was quickly followed by several smaller flashes of orange.

"Augur Arrays detect four enemy escort ships destroyed."

Kaius nodded with satisfaction. He continued to move the ship forward as the enemy fleets split into two groups that attempted to encircle them. "They are reacting to our longer range and spreading out their forces." Soon enough, the enemy ships were in weapons range. "Target the ship forty degrees off starboard with Lance turrets, and target the ship ninety degrees off port with Macrocannons."

The _Wrath of the Omnissiah_ shot at the enemy light cruiser with its Lance turrets. The energy beams struck the smaller vessel, burning through its hull plating and incinerating much of its starboard side, crippling it.

At the same time, their port side Macrocannons unleashed a barrage on a cruiser that was running parallel to them. The enemy ship's void shields absorbed much of the damage, but their broadside batteries were damaged.

Kaius kept the ship moving as its void shields began absorbing increasing amounts of enemy fire. Directly ahead was an escort, and he quickly calculated that their paths would intersect. Instead of trying to avoid it, Kaius kept moving forward. The _Wrath of the Omnissiah_ lumbered ahead like a mighty leviathan of legend until its prow slammed into the escort, the sheer weight and kinetic force enough to plow through the smaller ship like a hammer against plastic.

The escort ship exploded, and the Exploratores vessel was mostly unharmed.

The battle continued to rage in the depths of space for some time. The _Wrath of the Omnissiah_ mauled a large portion of the enemy fleets, focusing its firepower on the smaller vessels and slowly whittling down their numerical advantage.

That was not to say that the battle was entirely one-sided, though, for the combined firepower of all those ships was beginning to wear down the mighty Mechanicum vessel. Its Void Shields were running low, and its hull was beginning to be slowly warped and damaged from continued barrages.

Though the situation was looking dire, Kaius did not allow himself to feel fear. He was an adept of the Machine God, the leader of the Exploratores who had delivered his world from the binding chains of tradition to the glory of scientific exploration and innovation.

"Fabricator-General, there is an incoming enemy vessel along the starboard side" a Transmechanic reported.

Kaius examined the sensor suites, noting the large enemy cruiser that had somehow slipped around their stern. It was coming close in an almost suicidal manoeuvre that placed it within a few kilometres of their hull. Just as he was pondering the enemy's reasoning, he saw several dozen small dots being fired at their starboard side.

"The enemy has deployed some manner of boarding pods" Artisan Markovius stated.

"Have all Skitarii regiments put on alert" Kaius ordered. The boarding pods, numbering 324, struck the side of the ship like dozens of miniscule insect bites on a massive predator. Almost immediately afterwards, they began to receive transmission after transmission from the Skitarii aboard-ship, reporting that they were under attack.

Tracking signals disappeared in rapid succession, indicating that the enemy boarders were quite formidable.

Kaius pulled up security feeds from a Skitarii squad only three levels down from the bridge. The first-person view allowed him to see the corridor in perfect detail. The cybernetic soldiers were firing at a group of enemies at the other end. They were difficult to identify due to the frequent weapon flashes, but he could see that they were charging towards the squad, who held their ground as they were summarily slaughtered. The Alpha was jumped by a massive, furred creature with a wide, fang-filled maw as the feed was cut.

"Our forces are being overwhelmed at every turn" Artisan Markovius said, his tone neutral rather than mournful as it otherwise would have been.

Kaius turned to a nearby Magos and said "Take over" as he disconnected from the control throne. "Markovius, my Mechadendrites." The fellow priest went to work as the Magos connected to the throne. Within a few minutes, his four mechanical limbs were hooked to his nervous system, and he felt the familiar sensations once more. He then turned and walked over to one of the access doors, telling the squad of Protectors "Remain here and protect the bridge at all costs."

The elite Skitarii gave curt responses and took up defensive positions at either door as Kaius exited the bridge. He briskly strode through the corridors, distantly hearing the sounds of battle the further he went.

Eventually, he stopped at a lift, remembering that the closest battle was three levels directly beneath his feet.

Needing the element of surprise against these boarders, Kaius looked at the lift doors. He proceeded to jam his Claw Mechadendrite into the seam, using it to pry the doors open along with his arms. They gave way, and he was greeted by the empty, cavernous lift shaft. He leaned forward, looking up and seeing that the lift itself was several levels up.

With that, he leaped into the shaft, slamming into the wall and gripping it with his arms and claw. Without a second thought, he pushed off and fell down, gripping the wall at every turn before pushing off once more. Six jumps later, and he was holding onto the wall opposite the doors that led into the nearest battle zone.

Turning so that his right arm and claw gripped the wall while his left arm was free, he aimed his left Plasma Mechadendrite at the doors. The weapon charged for several seconds, then discharged a plasma round that vaporized the doors in an impressive explosion.

Not wasting any time, he pushed off from the shaft wall and landed inside the corridor amidst the carnage.

What Skitarii remained were stoically fighting off the enemy soldiers, not bothered in the slightest as they were being slowly massacred.

The aggressors were twice as large as any of the cybernetic soldiers, and they wore impressive suits of armour painted in the grey of a wild, uncontrollable tempest. Some had helmets, but most of them did not, revealing large heads with long black and grey hair along with beards and, most surprisingly, fangs. Were these some form of mutants?

While they were larger than the Skitarii, they were nowhere as large as Kaius.

He took advantage of the chaos of the explosion, gripping an enemy by the head with his Claw Mechadendrite and throwing him down the corridor to crash into several of his comrades. Kaius then charged his Plasma Mechadendrites and fired a pair of shots which struck and killed two of them while they tried to shoot him.

A nearby Skitarii Ranger was shot by one of the enemy soldiers. The large round struck his head, causing it to explode in a burst of blood and metal.

Kaius looked down at the corpse-strewn floor and quickly grabbed one of the enemy's weapons, a large black pistol of some sort. He aimed at a grey-bearded soldier and squeezed the trigger, killing him instantly with a shot to the head.

Just then, he heard a savage growl that was far too inhuman to have originated from one of the mutants. Kaius turned around and saw the creature which had killed the Ranger Alpha: a large, four-legged canine. Its presence dominated the tight-quarters battle, and its storm-grey fur was matted with copious amounts of blood. As if sensing his gaze, it turned to face him, its jaws dripping with blood and gore.

With a growl, it leapt at him.

The Fabricator-General of Portentia dropped the captured pistol and caught the beast's massive jaws with his hands. He slid back several feet before coming to a stop, his own titanic strength matched by that of the creature.

Luckily, he had more than two limbs with which to fight, and he struck at its exposed belly with his Drill Mechadendrite. It thrummed to life as it bored through the flesh, tearing it like paper whilst spraying blood across the walls and Kaius. The large canine gave a tortured cry of pain before falling to the floor, dead.

Kaius noticed two enemy soldiers with their backs to him, shooting at a squad of Skitarii while a third tore at them with a sword. Taking the opportunity, he charged both of his Plasma Mechadendrites and then shot them both in the back, killing them.

In response, the third enemy whirled to face him, and Kaius froze.

This one was much larger than the others. In fact, he was equally as tall as Kaius himself. He was garbed in the storm-grey armour of the rest, but it was more ornate and decorated with various details and battle honours. In his hand was a glowing sword which appeared to be longer than a normal man. His face was just as savage as his comrades, with a long, wild mane of dark blonde hair. His skin was pale, and his mouth was filled with glistening fangs.

The warrior, upon seeing Kaius, froze as well. The two of them stood as still as statues, never tearing their eyes from the other. Kaius' organic left brow furrowed as he suddenly felt something he never had: kinship. This fierce and savage warrior was somehow connected to him in a way that he was unfamiliar.

The battle came to a pause as the feral mutants and Mechanicus Skitarii stared at the two giants. Each was familiar with the sheer, godlike presence of their particular master, but to see two of them at the same time was like staring into the mouth of a swirling vortex.

The warrior appeared to be feeling the same emotions as Kaius, but before either of them could say anything, a lone Skitarii struck him from behind, stabbing his storm grey armour with a Taser Goad.

He growled, likely more from annoyance than pain, and turned as he sliced the cybernetic soldier in half.

Broken from his trance, Kaius reacted, charging at the warrior with superhuman speed. He tackled the other man, slamming his prodigious bulk into him and throwing him against a wall. For a while, they both struggled against each other, and Kaius estimated that they were more or less equal in strength; even with his superhuman physique, he might not have measured up against the savage warrior if not for his enhanced mechanical limbs.

Kaius belatedly registered that the battle between their forces had resumed, and they were once more surrounded by death.

His opponent, pushed against the wall, struck back with a head-butt, and Kaius could feel his nose break with a _crack_. He stumbled back, and the other man tried to bring his oversized blade down in an overhead chop, but Kaius managed to catch the sword arm with his claw. He proceeded to punch his opponent in the face with his metal arm, having the satisfaction of seeing a few sharpened teeth knocked out.

The warrior then grabbed him roughly by the waist and threw him against a wall. Kaius grunted, then quickly prepared himself for another attack.

Only, it did not come.

The warrior, instead of pressing his advantage, stood where he was and… chuckled. In the midst of a battle, he was chuckling. It quickly evolved as he reared his head back and bellowed a harsh laugh.

Kaius found himself utterly confused, as this warrior's actions defied normal logic. Their respective soldiers once more paused their fighting in response.

"So, there's no doubt" the warrior said after he finished laughing, his voice a feral growl. He then spit some blood onto the floor and said "It's been a long time since anyone drew my blood. I would know your name."

Kaius cocked his head, looking at him curiously. His ocular implant could detect no secret weapons power up, no devices of any offensive capability. Perhaps he was merely attempting to lull him into showing a vulnerability. Or maybe he had some hidden means of giving his soldiers a command to strike him from the rear. There was no discernible transmission coming from—

"Your name" the warrior said, interrupting Kaius' thoughts. "Tell me your name. Or can you not speak? Did you replace your tongue with metal, as well?"

"Kaius Caesarius, Fabricator-General of the Forge World Portentia" he said eventually with his deep, filtered voice, his curiosity soon outweighing his concern. "And yours?"

"Fabricator-General, eh? Well, this'll complicate matters. I'm Leman Russ, Primarch of the Allfather's finest warriors, the _Vlka Fenryka_!"

At this, the other storm-grey armoured warriors gave a bark of pride.

Kaius did not understand what the other man was saying, but before he could speak, this… Leman Russ spoke into a Vox-unit built into his armour's collar. "Admiral Kraust, this is Russ. Stop firing and stand down, and tell that Tech Priest Krakzon to do the same." There was a response, then "Now, dammit!"

A moment later, Kaius received a transmission from the bridge through his implanted Vox-unit. " _Fabricator-General, this is Artisan Markovius. The enemy fleets have stopped firing. How should we proceed?_ "

Kaius stared at Leman Russ for a moment, thoroughly weighing the consequences in his head. Eventually, he replied in Lingua-Technis "Power down weapons and bring us to a stop."

" _As you command_."

"Will you care to explain what is happening here?" Kaius asked.

"Well, it appears that we have quite the _valdelnagh_ on our hands" the other man replied. "You and I have a lot to talk about."

"And why is that?"

"Unfortunately… we're brothers."

* * *

Introducing... the Wolf-King of Fenris! Now we're getting to the exciting bits!

A few weeks ago, I wouldn't have been that familiar with void combat in W40k. Then, I played a little game called Battlefleet Gothic: Armada, which I HIGHLY suggest you all try out (seriously, it's one of the greatest 40k video games ever).

Also, the Fenrisian Wolf Kaius kills wasn't Freki or Geri, for those who were wondering. It was a nameless wolf who belonged to one of the Space Wolves he shot.

Please review and favourite!


	10. Lord of the II Legion

The battle was short-lived, but it would be remembered for its importance to history.

All-told, by the time Kaius and Leman Russ ended hostilities, fifty percent of the enemy fleet had been either destroyed or crippled by the _Wrath of the Omnissiah_ , which had sustained major structural damage to its hull and the loss of two Lance turrets.

Despite the fact that it had only been recently revived by the Exploratores, the venerable Ark Mechanicus vessel had been more than a match.

While the damage was repaired and losses catalogued, Kaius escorted Leman Russ to the Magnum Oratio Templum. He could tell that the warrior found the Forge World and the Mechanicum distasteful.

However, when they were alone in Kaius' private chambers, he wasted no time.

Russ told him everything about the Imperium of Man. He spoke of the Emperor of Mankind, the immortal, all-powerful ruler of Mankind who had united the fractured nations of Terra, humanity's birthplace.

He spoke of how the Emperor, or, to Russ, the 'Allfather', had created twenty superhuman Primarchs, genetically engineered demigods who would serve as the generals and statesmen of the newborn Imperium. Before the Emperor completed his work, however, the Primarchs had been taken from the gene-labs and scattered across the galaxy.

The Emperor had proceeded to create twenty Legions of Astartes, Space Marines, each created from genetic samples of the twenty Primarchs. With the Legions at his command, he had launched the Great Crusade, a massive undertaking meant to reunite the scattered populations of the human race and ensure their dominance of the galaxy. Leman Russ was the Primarch of the VI Legion, and they were called the Space Wolves, though they referred to themselves as the _Vlka Fenryka_ in their native tongue.

Even now, as they spoke, the Emperor and His forces were conquering world after world, system after system, all in the name of human unity and superiority.

Kaius absorbed all this information, coming to terms with it all. Never in his grandest ambitions had he dared to imagine such an undertaking. That feeling quickly passed, however, and his inherent inquisitive nature emerged as he peppered Russ with questions. How large was the Imperium? Where were the other Primarchs? What was the Emperor like? How did He create the Primarchs and the Astartes? What were the designs of the Imperium's void ships and technology?

In particular, he pressed Russ for information on Mars, one of the first and oldest human colonies and the birthplace of the Cult Mechanicus. Mars had always featured in the most ancient records of Portentia, spoken of with wonder and mysticism as the place where the faith in the Machine God had originated.

For his part, Russ, referred to as 'The Wolf-King' by his Space Wolves, seemed irritated by all the questions, but nevertheless he answered them as best he could.

The longer they spoke, the more familiar Kaius became with his new brother. While he was a faithful adept of the Mechanicum, dedicated to studying knowledge and worshipping the Machine God, Russ was the exact opposite: he was brash, partly feral, and boisterous to an annoying degree.

Still, Kaius was relishing in this new feeling.

For his entire life, he had been respected and practically worshipped by the Priesthood of Portentia. And yet, he had never been on equal footing with anyone before. For all his faults, Russ was still his brother.

* * *

Kaius and Russ were walking along the kilometre-high defensive wall of Manufactorum Croesus, well into their fifth day of talking. They regularly encountered Skitarii squads and the occasional Tech Priest, all of whom bowed before their Fabricator-General and his brother, who was just as equally deserving of respect.

"What was your objective here?" Kaius asked, looking over at the Wolf-King. "I understand why the Priesthood of Mars would send an expedition, but why did you join them?"

He snorted. "I was hoping for some kind of fight. The last three worlds we conquered offered little sport, so I took a few of the _Vlka Fenryka_ and offered to accompany that Tech Priest, Krakzon."

"I see" Kaius said in his deep, filtered voice. "So, I gather that you found the fight you were looking for?"

Russ glared at him. "You got lucky in your creaking ship. We would have torn through you like steel through linen if I had not stopped the attack. Especially if my entire fleet had come with me."

"As you say."

The two of them continued to walk for some time, eventually coming to stop at a perimeter command post along the wall.

"Where are the others?" he asked. "The other Primarchs?"

Russ shrugged. "Who knows? First it was Horus, then me, and now you. We'll find the others soon enough, so why bother wondering?"

That was another chief difference between them, Kaius noted: he was infinitely curious, while the Wolf-King had not an ounce of curiosity in his bones. He understood his purpose, and that was the end of the matter.

Just then, he received a transmission on his collar Vox-unit. "Yes? Alright, I'm sending you landing coordinates."

"What was that about?" Kaius asked.

"That was Admiral Kraust. The _Vengeful Spirit_ just entered the system."

* * *

Two hours later, Kaius and Russ stood on the plains of Harshor, awaiting the arrival of their other brother.

Russ stood with a group of his Space Wolves several metres away from Kaius, who was flanked by an honour guard of Skitarii and the most senior Tech Priests of Portentia. To their left stood Archmagos Explorator Krakzon and a group of his subordinate Tech Priests. They all stood on the edge of a massive landing platform that Kaius had had his priests construct in order to prepare for the arrival.

Behind them, the Knights of House Aurelius were arranged in a semi-circle, while the fifty two Titans of Legio Lex loomed over the barren plains. To either side of the platform, Portentia's Skitarii Legion were arranged in perfect organization, with not a single man or weapon out of place.

All in all, it was the grandest gathering in the Forge World's history.

While they waited for the arrival, Kaius decided to speak to the fellow priest in Lingua-Technis. "How do you find Portentia, Explorator?"

Krakzon looked at him for a moment, then bowed his metallic head and replied "It is most impressive, my lord Primarch. You and your priests have done admirable work in glorifying the most holy Machine God."

"You honour us." He noticed Russ looking at them with a slight frown, but ignored it.

Their time together had taught him that the Wolf-King would never become comfortable with the Mechanicum, and by extension, Kaius himself. While they were brothers, the Fabricator-General of Portentia understood that they would never be close.

Up in the smog-filled sky, a dozen bright lights signalled the incoming transports.

Krakzon said "I understand that your world has only just recently ended a centuries-long civil war?"

Kaius nodded. "The Portentian Schism was long and brutal, but the faithful emerged victorious over those who would abuse our beliefs and see us entombed under the old paradigm."

The lights morphed into fiery engine trails as four transports and eight fighter craft became visible.

"If I might say, I believe your arrival on this world was a blessing from the Machine God" the Explorator stated. "I am personally humbled that He saw fit to induct a Primarch into the mysteries of our order."

Just then, the four transports landed on the platform several dozen metres ahead of the three groups, while the fighters circled around before landing on the platform's perimeter.

Once they were settled, their engines slowly shut down, and three of them promptly lowered their boarding ramps. A dozen massive warriors in gilded armour and wielding ceremonial pikes disembarked from a pair of transports, forming a line in front of the fourth. From the other, a number of armoured Astartes descended, their heavy boots clanging as they walked.

Unlike Russ and his Space Wolves, these warriors were garbed in white armour with a black trim. They were twice as large as the Skitarii, but nowhere near as large as Kaius and Russ.

At their head was a man twice as large as the rest. He was garbed in pearl-white armour, and the black hide of a creature not dissimilar from the wolves employed by Russ adorned his shoulders. His head was shaved, and he bore a charismatic aura; this was a man of destiny, meant to lead the armies of humanity across the stars.

He and his escort approached, while the golden-armoured warriors remained standing where they were. Russ walked over to him, and the two men greeted each other warmly. "Horus" the Wolf-King said, clapping him on the shoulder.

"Russ" the other said in return. "I understand that he knocked a few of your teeth out."

Russ grumbled, clearly still sore over Kaius landing a hit. "He got lucky" he finally mumbled.

Horus chuckled, then looked over at Kaius. His lips curled into a warm smile, and he walked over to the Tech Priest. For a moment, neither of them spoke, taking the chance to examine one another. Eventually, though, Horus placed a hand on Kaius' shoulder. "Hello, brother" he said. "I cannot tell you how pleased I am to be meeting you."

Kaius looked down at the hand on his shoulder. The Cult Mechanicus had taught him that the flesh was weak, for it bore limitations of ability and bred distracting emotions. Only the mechanical could offer improvement and the chance to venerate the Machine God.

And yet, there was a part of him that relished in the feeling of kinship, of belonging to a family.

"The honour is mine" he said eventually, meaning every word. Horus looked down at his throat as he spoke, his attention drawn to the metal and Vox-grill. The look faded.

"I am glad. But I am not the only one who has been looking forward to this meeting."

At this, Horus stepped aside and turned to face the fourth transport. Kaius followed his gaze as its boarding ramp was lowered, and the ceremonial warriors parted before it.

A golden light shone from the ship's hold, a light that grew in majesty as the ramp touched the metal of the platform. It was as if a miniature sun were blazing from within, and even his superior sight was overwhelmed.

But, he was soon able to identify a silhouette that slowly descended onto the platform.

Kaius was filled with warmth, as if he were nothing but a babe warmed by a comforting flame after being lost in a cold forest. Even those parts of his body replaced by implants felt it, and he kept his eyes focused on the glorious being now approaching him.

In the corners of his vision, he saw Horus and Russ bowing before the figure, while Archmagos Krakzon and his Tech Priests were kneeling.

Kaius then prostrated himself before the magnificent figure. Behind him, Artisan Markovius and the other senior Tech Priests of Portentia did the same, as did the entirety of the Skitarii Legion. All of them, breathless, uttered the name "Omnissiah," invoking the name that the Mechanicum legends used for the personification of the Machine God. The Knights of House Aurelius and the Titans of Legio Lex all bowed, as well, the fearsome colossi of war completely humbled.

Kaius became aware that the figure was standing over him, but he dared not look up. "My son" he said, his voice possessing the compassion and warmth that only a god could have. "Rise. I would not have you on your knees before me."

Obeying the command, Kaius stood to his full height. He now found himself face to face with the Omnissiah, the Emperor of Mankind.

The Emperor's face was lit with a golden halo of light, enhancing its majesty a hundredfold. His eyes gazed at him, windows into the divine soul of a mighty being who had wandered the stars before Mankind's first steps. They spoke of infinite wisdom, the summation of all knowledge in the universe, and they also spoke of power, of the heights that a man could reach if he only had the strength to do so.

"Father" he said, his voice filled with devotion. He had always known that the Machine God had chosen him for greatness, and the Tech Priests of Portentia had called him 'Scion of the Machine God'.

Never before had that title been more appropriate.

"I solemnly swear, from this day until the end of time, that this world and all its inhabitants, all those who serve me, now serve you. This I swear, by my life and the lives of all those gathered here."

The Emperor smiled gratefully. "I accept your vow, my son. But you will not only serve me, but all Mankind, and the glorious future of the Imperium of Man."

* * *

Kaius led the Emperor into the peak sanctuary of the Magnus Oratio Templum. Horus and Russ excused themselves so that they might have some privacy.

The Tech Priest watched as his father gazed out at the Manufactorum below, at the scale of the industry that had been realized after the end of the Schism. For several minutes, neither of them spoke, until the Emperor eventually said "You have done well here, my son." He gestured to the cityscape with a gauntleted hand. "All of this is a testament to your abilities, and it is but the first step along the path that I designed for you."

Kaius took a step forward and asked "Father, why did you create us?"

His father turned to face him. "For millennia, Mankind was separated by the Old Night, each world left to fend for themselves in the face of violent Warp Storms that made interstellar travel all but impossible."

"What is the Warp?" Kaius asked.

"It is the extra-dimensional plain that allows us to travel at faster than light speeds." Kaius sensed that there was more to it than that, but his father continued with his tale. "Not even Terra herself was immune to the carnage. It was ravaged by petty techno warlords who operated out of self-interest. I knew that, to save humanity and ensure its dominance of the galaxy, I had to step out of the shadows. I had to take a direct hand in our race's affairs."

Kaius nodded. "So, you conquered these warlords, yes? I'm assuming that you did so with the Astartes?"

The Emperor smiled a little at his logical nature. "Nay. I did so with the Thunder Warriors, the precursors to the Astartes. Once Terra was unified under my rule, I began preparations for a Crusade of epic proportions, one that would re-unify our splintered race and conquer the galaxy. I knew that even I could not lead this endeavour alone; I set about creating the perfect generals, peerless warriors who could lead my armies across every star system. They, you, were to be humanity's perfect leaders."

"But what happened? Russ told me that we were stolen as infants."

His father stared off into space, appearing as if he were reliving a memory. "You were stolen from me. At the time, I knew that you and your brothers were scattered about various human worlds, and I was forced to press on. I used your genetic material to create the twenty Legiones Astartes, my Angels of Death."

Kaius turned and stared out at the vast manufacturing complex below. "So that means that one of the Legions is mine?"

"Yes. They are your sons, their essence distilled from your genes."

"And I am to lead them."

"Yes. It is your destiny."

He nodded, understanding more about his life and his purpose than ever before. For his entire life, Kaius had merely supposed what he had been engineered for, imagining a host of possible fates and scenarios over the years.

A few had been realized by his unification of Portentia, but his ultimate purpose had long been a mystery to him. Now, it was perfectly clear: he was meant to lead his father's army out into the cold void of space and forge the greatest empire the galaxy had ever known.

As he absorbed this information, he found himself hungry for more. He turned to his father and said "I wish to know of Mars. What can you tell me about the birthplace of my order?"

At this, the Emperor's smile lessened. "My son, while I can respect the beliefs as taught by those who raised you, you must understand that you are past that, now. You will be at the forefront of my Great Crusade, spreading the belief in Mankind's superiority. The Imperial Truth that I have created does not allow for religion and strife, as it was in ancient times. Reason and science must become the truth of humanity, and you are to be a champion of that truth."

Kaius once more looked out at the Manufactorum, pondering his father's words as the light of the setting sun slowly faded.

* * *

The following evening, Kaius was standing at the base of a massive statue of the cog symbol of the Mechanicum within Manufactorum Croesus' primary administrative structure. All of Portentia's senior Tech Priests were gathered before him: the Archmagi, the Forge Masters of the Forge Temples, all the way down to the Lachrimallus who drove on their hordes of workers and the Artisans who constructed all of the vehicles, Titans, and other engines of war. Even High Lord Julian, the new ruler of House Aurelius, was present along with some retainers.

Kaius gazed out at the gathering of the Forge World's collective leadership. Artisan Markovius stood just behind and to the right of him. Lining the perimeter stood various Skitarii Protectors and warrior Electro-Priests.

After the assassination of Lucratio Moran, Servitors were forbidden from serving as bodyguards.

Eventually, Kaius took a step forward and, mentally increasing the volume of his Vox-grill, said in Lingua-Technis "In the sight of the Machine God, I call this meeting to order."

The other priests fell silent, staring up at him.

"We have come to a crux in our history" he continued, looking out at the gathering. "For centuries, we fought against those who were too stubborn to recognize the march of progress. We defeated them, and ushered in a new age of prosperity and production and innovation. All of our struggles have led to this moment. Before now, our concerns have been limited to this world, to our people. From this point forward, our concerns now extend to the entire galaxy. Our production, industry, and armed forces will now be dedicated to crafting the Imperium of Man."

"How will this endeavour help us in worshipping the Machine God?" Magos Prime Ludko asked.

Kaius replied "The Omnissiah has spoken to me of the greater galaxy." The mention of His name caused many of the Tech Priests to utter prayers to the Machine God. "He says that there are other Forge Worlds, settled by the Mechanicum millennia ago. Also, one of the primary aims of the Great Crusade is to reclaim the sacred Standard Template Constructs of old, those most holy designs of ages past."

"The sacred templates!" a Logis cried out.

"The holiest incarnations of knowledge" an Archmagos Reductor uttered.

To the Cult Mechanicus, who revered knowledge as the manifestation of the divine, the Standard Template Constructs were the single holiest artifacts in their faith. Relics from thousands of years ago, when human technological achievement had been at its peak, the STCs had been designed as evolved computer systems that could instruct humanity's colonists on how to construct innumerable advanced technologies from available materials.

By the present day, most had been lost, and those that were left were the most highly prized objects for the Mechanicum.

"We will venture out into the stars and reclaim the lost knowledge of the ancients" Kaius promised, silencing his priests. "But we will also not forget our recent struggles. We fought for centuries so that we may have the courage to explore new ideas and paths of development, and we will continue to innovate as we recover what has been lost." He indicated one of the nearby Tech Priests. "Fabricator Locum Ptolemais, step forward."

The other priest did as ordered, approaching him and holding his multi-fingered, metallic arms to the sides. "What do you wish of me, Scion of the Machine God?"

Kaius glanced at the others before replying "My father created me for one purpose: to lead his armies across the stars to conquer the galaxy for Mankind. I shall do this, which means that I cannot continue in my capacity as Fabricator-General."

This caused a stir among the gathering, and they were clearly upset.

"But this cannot be!"

"Most holy one, you are our only leader!"

Kaius held up a hand for silence. "I will always be an adept of the Mechanicum, studying the six-fold path of the Machine God. But overseeing this world is no longer my purpose. It shall fall to you, Ptolemais."

The Fabricator Locum inclined his head. "I am most humbled by your decision."

"Fabricator Locum Ptolemais, do you accept the role of Fabricator-General and all the responsibilities it entails?"

"I do."

"Do you swear to uphold this world's pledge of loyalty to the Omnissiah and the Imperium of Man?"

"I do."

"Then by the authority vested in me by Lucratio Moran and the Cult Mechanicus, I proclaim you Fabricator-General of Portentia, in the name of the Machine God, the Omnissiah, and the Motive Force."

* * *

The arrival of the Emperor was the single greatest event in the history of Portentia, easily outstripping its initial colonization and the final, victorious battle over the Orationes. That day marked the Forge World's venture into galactic affairs; from then on, all of its industry, production, and nearly all of its military forces would be donated to the Great Crusade.

While not as grand as the Emperor's arrival, Kaius Caesarius' initial address to the II Legion of Astartes was the second greatest event in his homeworld's history.

Shortly after declaring Ptolemais the new Fabricator-General, Kaius had begun preparations to accept command of his Legion. Russ had left three days prior, citing his and his warriors' restlessness. They had spent too long on Portentia, while worlds uncounted awaited the ice-cold steel of the Space Wolves. He did not explicitly say as much, but Kaius surmised that his brother was also leaving because of him; the two were just too dissimilar, and his membership in the Cult Mechanicus was likely another point of irritation for the Wolf-King.

Horus and the Emperor had remained, though they were presently in orbit aboard Horus' flagship, the _Vengeful Spirit_.

After he finished addressing his Legion, Kaius would join them and truly begin his tutelage in the ways of the Imperium and his duties as a Primarch.

The II Legion had arrived in-system not two days after the departure of Leman Russ. Kaius had watched their ships, his ships, coming into orbit and depositing the entirety of the Legion onto Portentia's surface. As with the Emperor's arrival, the gathering took place on the plains of Harshor. He had led Skitarii and Titans into battle for decades, and as such he was no stranger to the art of warfare.

On this day, he would be assuming command of one of the most potent military forces in the history of Mankind.

A Servitor-piloted shuttle ferried him from Manufactorum Croesus over to the dry, blasted plains, where his Astartes were awaiting him. The shuttle eventually came to land on the recently constructed speaking platform. It shook as it settled into place, and Kaius stood. The boarding ramp lowered, and a truly mighty gathering awaited him.

There were 20, 000 Astartes in the II Legion. All of them were garbed in grey, colourless suits of imposing armour. They were assembled in perfect formation, no less imprecise than the Skitarii, a point that Kaius found impressive.

These were his gene-sons, and they would be his instruments as they conquered the galaxy.

Kaius descended the ramp, his boots clanging against the metal like the steps of an ancient, metal giant of myth. He was dressed in a long, sleeveless rust-coloured robe that left his head bare. The silver hair and beard on the organic part of his face glistened in the sunlight, while his four massive Mechadendrites and bionic right arm surely cast a memorable image in the minds of his Astartes.

He strode across the platform, noting the line of eight Astartes standing as a line of armoured statues with Bolters held against their chest and combat knives strapped to their belts.

One of the Astartes detached himself from the line and knelt before him. "My lord" he said, his voice deep and filtered.

Kaius silently deduced that the armour must have a built-in Vox-caster.

"State your name and rank" Kaius ordered with his own deep and filtered voice.

The Astartes lowered his Bolter and, with his left hand, removed his helmet, revealing a thick, square face with flat black hair and a long scar across his forehead. "My lord, I am Darius Solorax, Legion Master of the II Legion. Long have we searched the stars for our Primarch, and to our never-ending joy, we have at last been reunited with you, our gene-sire."

"So you have" Kaius said. "But be wary, Darius Solorax, for emotions are a product of the flesh, and the flesh is fallible."

The Legion Master bowed his head. "As you say, my lord."

"My father has spoken to me of your achievements. He says that you have earned renown as the Void Hounds."

"That is correct. Not all the Legions have earned their names, but the Emperor saw fit to bestow it upon us for our peerless ability with void ship boarding actions and planetary assaults."

Kaius nodded, briefly glancing at the other officers who stood on the speaking platform. He turned, and at the head of his Legion, before the cog of the Mechanicum and flags depicting the Imperial Aquila, he spoke, knowing that Vox Servitors would convey his words so that all might hear him.

"You have fought for many years, earning the name of the Void Hounds. That is now in the past. We must look to the future, a future that we shall not only forge through steel and iron, but also through the collection and reclamation of knowledge. Our race is superior to all others because of our knowledge, our higher learning."

He could tell the Legion was intently listening to every word, drawn in by his magnificent aura.

"Long ago, we created the greatest technological wonders this galaxy has ever seen. As we carve a path through the stars, we will reclaim those lost wonders, those products of a bygone age. Combined with our capacity for creation and innovation, we will create the most powerful empire in the history of the galaxy. From this day forth, you shall no longer be known as the Void Hounds. Instead, you shall be known across all time as the Knowledge Hunters, warriors who seek to elevate Mankind into its rightful, dominant place."

He stared out at the gathered host, letting his words sink in before he continued.

"That is what we are fighting for. We fight for the Emperor. We fight for Mankind. We fight for the greater good of the Imperium of Man!"

As one, the 20, 000 Astartes raised their voices in a mighty, thunderous roar that carried across the plains of Harshor, a war-cry that sounded the supremacy of the human race and doom to all its enemies.

* * *

We now come to a historic event: the Scion of the Machine God has now taken his place among the stars. Now that he has assumed command of the II Legion, I have a few factoids for those who might be interested:

Legion: II

Primarch: Kaius Caesarius (also known as the Scion of the Machine God)

Name: Knowledge Hunters

Homeworld: Clio (second planet of the Larusian System)

Flagship: _Quest for Knowledge_

Colours: Silver with rust-coloured shoulder plates on which are Legion/company markings in white

Symbol: Armoured hand grasping a scroll

Elite company: Praetores, led by Andion Videlis (heavily cyber-augmented heavy infantry that exclusively serve as Kaius' bodyguards and his personal assault force in combat)

Eight Cohorts (Great Companies) that are each led by a Captain and consist of 10 000 Astartes (not at first, but they build up to that over time)

First Captain: Darius Solorax, former Legion Master

Second Captain: Torghar

Third Captain: Daxus Monokar

Fourth Captain: Ashem Gyges

Fifth Captain: Athenaius

Sixth Captain: Bokanid Blantoss

Seventh Captain: Chrysos Mevius

Eighth Captain: Constallius Tyches

High Lord Julian: head of House Aurelius Knights

Erwin Krantz: Princeps Maximus of Legio Lex

Combat Doctrine: The II Legion focuses on mechanized warfare, and prefers to fight at long range. As reflected by their Primarch's upbringing by the Mechanicum, they place a heavy emphasis on cybernetic enhancements (just as much if not more so than the Iron Hands, but I'll get to that later). A Knightly House and Titan Legion are regularly employed for shock-and-awe tactics. Every Battle-Brother is trained to maintain their wargear's rites and the rites for every piece of weaponry and vehicle, and the Legion is in possession of the latest and most powerful technologies and weapons in the Imperium. They have no set tactical doctrine, and tailor their strategies based on the enemy they face and the terrain of battle.


	11. Desperate Flight

All was lost.

With the emergence of Sathu'khar, leader of the Abominations who had plagued Makandrascar for thousands of years, the entirety of its recorded history, the realm of Lord Tenebrius was consumed by hordes of crimson-scaled creatures and massive, armoured beasts who trampled all underfoot. Without the protection spell in place, portals appeared almost everywhere at once. The people were butchered in a vast orgy of blood and slaughter.

The Abominations were not the only ones responsible.

Legions of the realm's soldiers, men and women who had fought to defend the realm from those monsters, now joined in the bloodshed, recklessly cutting down their friends and family. They were led by Yuro Katur, former Castellan of the Iron Hold and adoptive father of Rhokan, the Lord of Fate.

The man who had once fought for life and peace now fought for death and hate, his body now a twisted, corrupt parody of itself as he led the traitors in orgies of death and violence.

After his duel with Antonar and defeat at the hands of Sathu'khar, Rhokan had teleported himself to Fakori Castle, the residence of Elliara and the last remaining bastion of hope in the realm. All those still faithful to Lord Tenebrius' memory, and thus to Rhokan, their new Lord, gathered there. While he had gone off to face Antonar, Elliara had endeavoured to gather every ally she could. By the time she and Rhokan reunited, they and the twins, Roni and Toni, were the only surviving apprentices of Lord Tenebrius.

Their army was modest, compared to the united forces of the realm, but they had saved everyone they could. None of the villagers had joined them; those that escaped from their burning homes were hunted down like animals, brutally torn apart by their own kin.

* * *

"Hurry!" Elliara shouted. "Get that gate closed!"

The last army contingents were pouring into the castle, desperate for any measure of protection they could find. Once the last of them were through, the front gate was slammed shut, its psychic wards put in place. With that, the castle was protected, in as much as anything could be protected when the world was burning.

"How many?" she called down to the soldiers who had just entered.

They glanced at each other for a moment, not looking sure as to who should respond. That suggested that their commander was dead. Eventually, a dark-haired woman looked up at her and replied "Fifty, my lord."

Elliara swore. That unit had been over three hundred strong just this morning. "Get some food and rest. We're going to need it." The dark-haired woman nodded, leading the others into the castle. The Years of Suffering had always exacted a high number of deaths, and among other things, there were two significant results of this: the population of Makandrascar was never that high, and in the army, everyone served, no matter their gender. Women were needed just as men due to the smaller population, something that the Gifted Lord was feeling more acutely at the moment.

Off in the distance, everything was aglow with raging flames or the Abominations' portals, creating a long line of pulsating colour. Elliara thought she could hear screams, even this far to the east.

She pinched the bridge of her nose, her eyes closed as she exhaled. Everything had gone so terribly wrong. One moment, they were weathering the Year of Suffering better than they ever had, and the next, everything was being swallowed by hellfire.

Roni and Toni were currently in the ritual chamber at the top of the castle, using their power to project a minor version of the protective spell over a mile-wide area. It was barely enough to protect all the soldiers she had managed to rescue, but it was something.

Suddenly, her senses flared as there was a muted thunderclap.

Elliara looked down at the courtyard, where a brief flash of light presaged the sudden appearance of Rhokan. She felt relief flooding through her, but then she saw the damage to his body. He was leaning heavily on his staff, obviously fatigued, and his black robe was torn and frayed all over. His mask was broken, with a missing chunk revealing his bloodied face. His gloves were all but gone, and his hands had been reduced to bloody messes.

Elliara leaped into the courtyard, proceeding to run over to Rhokan. He fell down to his knees, grunting in pain. She crouched beside him, but even bent over and on his knees he was much larger than her.

"Rhokan, what happened?" she asked, placing a hand on his back. She instantly withdrew it upon feeling how hot his clothing was. In fact, it was smoking and singed. "Where are the Shadow Guard that went with you? What happened with Antonar?"

For a long moment, he remained as he was, too weak to stand. Then, he placed a hand on her boot. Her entire body tensed as she experienced his shared memories.

She saw everything that had happened in the Iron Hold: the in-fighting between the soldiers and Shadow Guard, the fierce duel with Antonar, the sudden, cataclysmic appearance of the nightmarish Sathu'khar, and the full realization of Castellan Yuro's betrayal. Then came Rhokan's fall from the spire, and his teleportation to this spot.

Elliara gasped as the vision came to an end, having to catch her breath for a minute.

Rhokan then collapsed from exhaustion.

By this point, a crowd of soldiers and servants had gathered around them, and Elliara stood and called out "Get him inside!" As he was gently brought within the castle, she could see that his wounds were already healing. It would not be long before he was back to his full strength.

Still, she suspected that the most grievous wounds were not the physical.

The next few hours were spent coordinating the survivors, finding them lodging and ensuring adequate watchmen were posted along the walls. Fakori castle was filled to its limit, and the harbour city that surrounded it was packed with wounded soldiers and terrified families. Their supplies would run out before long, and unless they found another shelter, they would all starve. If the Abominations did not slaughter them, first.

She and the other Gifted could outlast any soldier or farmer; their abilities, among other benefits, provided pools of energy that could theoretically sustain them for decades longer than any natural lifespan. But, they could not maintain themselves that way while fighting off the murderous hordes of Sathu'khar at the same time.

When she was not busy directing housing and coordinating patrols, Elliara visited Rhokan, who had been placed in her private chambers. Her personal physicians, learned men and women who had The Gift, tended to him, but they informed her that his wounds were healing at an astounding rate on their own, and they admitted that there was nothing more they could do that his own body was not doing.

Lord Tenebrius had always believed that Rhokan was their saviour, and if ever there were a time when the people of Makandrascar needed a saviour, it was now.

* * *

Rhokan tossed and turned in bed, sweating profusely. He was plagued with visions that morphed into memories, memories that overlapped one another as details were haphazardly exchanged for fantasies.

He remembered conversations with Antonar that had turned violent long before their confrontation, duels with Lord Tenebrius who morphed into the form of Sathu'khar, and a host of disjointed, confusing imagery.

The worst of them all were the ones featuring Yuro.

Every memory Rhokan ever had about the older man was now tainted; warm, loving conversations were twisted into savage battles, times spent riding through the countryside became horrific as they were swallowed by toothed maws that opened in the ground. The former Castellan's betrayal had struck deep into his core, and deep down, Rhokan knew that he would bear these scars for the rest of his life.

He would never feel another emotion.

The memory of Yuro's betrayal, of realizing that his adoptive father figure had fallen so far and now hated him so much, ended with him falling from the spire. He plummeted, just as he did when he fell to Makandrascar as an infant. Only this time, he was not the bearer of hope, but tragedy. He fell, and fell, eventually coming to strike the ground.

Rhokan bolted upright, gasping for breath as the torrent of nightmares came to an abrupt halt.

His chest rose and fell as he breathed in deeply, slowly sloughing off the pain and misery of his horror-laced memories. Eventually, his breathing slowed, and he took stock of his surroundings. He was currently sitting, cramped, in a bed that clearly had not been constructed for him. Rhokan looked down at his body, and found that, apart from his silver pants, he was nude. The injuries he had sustained from the fall were completely healed. His mask was gone, and he felt his face, realizing that he was whole.

"It's good to see you up" Rhokan heard a familiar voice say. He turned his head and saw Elliara standing by the door, leaning against a wall.

Though her porcelain mask concealed her face, he could sense that she was exhausted. Hair was visible on the normally bald half of her head, while the silver hair on the other half was unkempt and greasy, indicating a general lack of personal hygiene in the face of an apocalyptic series of events.

He reached out to her with his powers, mentally asking her how long since his teleportation.

"Two days" she replied, pulling a chair from across the room with a wave and practically collapsing into it. She removed her mask, and Rhokan saw the toll exacted on her by frenzied management during a crisis. The Gifted Lord was one step away from falling unconscious.

Rhokan stood, stretching his muscles. He saw his staff on a nearby table and reached out his hand. It floated into his grasp, and he gripped it so tight that his knuckles were turning white. The sting of Yuro's betrayal was still fresh, and while anyone else would be consumed by feelings of anger and despair, he felt nothing.

For thousands of years, innumerable generations, the Abominations had been the great enemy of the Makandrascari people, but they had only fought the footsoldiers. Rhokan had seen the true extent of their enemy, and going forward, he had to do more than just endure.

He would have to delve deeper into the mysteries of The Gift in order to combat Sathu'khar and Yuro.

Channeling his godlike powers through his staff, Rhokan fashioned a suit of armour for himself. The plates came into being with a flash, equipping themselves over his body as a white cape was clasped to his shoulders. His face was once more concealed by a porcelain mask. With that complete, he proceeded to walk out of Elliara's chambers. She tried to stand, but he waved a hand and used a sleeping spell on her, and her eyes closed as her head lolled to the side.

He could not afford to let her exhaustion compromise his leadership, and he needed her to be at her strongest when the time came.

Rhokan opened the door with a mental command, and proceeded to make his way out of the castle and onto the battlements. The soldiers and servants who came across him dropped to their knees, voicing breathless thanks and statements of hope at his awakening. The golden glow that had been a part of him his entire life was a beacon of light to the people, who were currently drowning in darkness.

He walked along the wall for a few minutes, and then he was struck by a vision. He saw an oncoming tide of crimson beasts and blood-drenched traitors that would wash over them in a matter of hours.

Rhokan immediately held up his staff. A white light began to shine from the eagle at its head, a light which grew and grew in intensity as he reached out and touched the minds of every man, woman, and child in the castle and the harbour city. He conveyed a single message which rang in their minds:

 _They are coming_.

Completely trusting their lord, the soldiers instantly began shouting orders to each other. Horns were blown, signalling the evacuation, and Rhokan could hear the distant sounds of an overcrowded city rousing itself into action.

As men and women ran this way and that, the Lord of Fate ushered himself back to Elliara's chambers, where she was still sleeping. He had a servant take all of her books and weapons, while he carried her all the way down to the harbour. Once she was settled on one of the ships, he concerned himself with directing the evacuation.

Even spurned into action by his vision, the people took two hours to load themselves onto every ship in the harbour. Even smaller fishing vessels, dinghy's, and essentially anything that could float was used in order to get out of the city and onto the water. Overseeing the final evacuation in the castle, Rhokan could see the advancing hordes of Abominations rapidly advancing towards them. From the ritual chamber at the top of the castle, he could see countless thousands crimson-scaled monstrosities, some of which were astride great, lumbering beasts of metal that belched molten fires.

Roni and Toni were kneeling across from each other, keeping up the barrier for as long as possible. As the evacuation underwent its final stage, the Abominations began to assault the castle, throwing themselves with reckless abandon at the gate and the walls.

They were greeted by the arrows shot from a hundred soldiers on the ramparts who had elected to remain behind and free up room on the boats for others. They were joined by two hundred others who stood ready in the courtyard, all of whom knew that they were going to their deaths. Rhokan could not help but feel honoured at their sacrifice, while at the same time accepting the cold knowledge of this new war.

Countless good men and women had to go to their agonizing deaths just to hold the enemy at bay, all in the name of saving the rest. He pledged to himself, then and there, that he would not only fight so that sacrifices had to be made, but to eradicate Sathu'khar and his kind forevermore.

The Abominations began climbing over the walls, while one of the metal beasts threw its bulk against the gate, splintering the wood. Rhokan knew that now was the time.

With his staff in hand, he placed a hand on both of the twins, using his powers to teleport them onto one of the last ships as it sailed away. With that, the ritual was broken and the barrier collapsed. It was not seconds before swirling pink portals appeared above Fakori Castle and the harbour city, depositing even more slobbering Abominations onto them.

Rhokan stretched out his awareness, feeling the three hundred soldiers as they were brutally torn asunder and consumed within minutes. He clenched his free hand into a fist, his freshly made vow at the forefront of his thoughts.

Soon, the Abominations came into view, rushing towards the harbour in a mad frenzy.

Rhokan responded by making a pulling motion with his free hand. At his command, the water rose in a great wave that pushed all the ships farther from the city. He could feel the ship rocking from the sudden jolt, and most everyone onboard fell down, but his footing remained stable. Once they were far enough away, he threw the wave back at the edge of the horde. As it rushed back towards the city, he fired a white beam of superhot energy at it. At once, the wave erupted into a wave of roaring flames.

It then slammed into the harbour, slaying an untold number of the Abominations and setting most of the city ablaze. He could see monstrous shapes writhing in agony amidst the psychically enhanced flames, melting into piles of bubbling sludge.

However, there was one figure who seemed to be unharmed by the flames.

It strode through the melting corpses, wielding a long, serrated sword in one hand. Rhokan felt every muscle in his body grow taut as Yuro Katur came into view, standing atop the burning pier and staring at them. The Lord of Fate could feel his former father figure's gaze on him, and his own superior, Gift-enhanced sight perceived the older man's deformed body.

Yuro was now quite taller than the average man, and his skin, which was the colour of bloodshot eyes, was stretched to near breaking over his prodigious muscles. Sharpened bones protruded from his collarbone, elbows, and hips, while his mouth seemed to glow with an inner fire. At his waist was a collection of human skulls, some more intact than others and one still dripping blood from freshly flayed skin. As the ships sailed away, he raised his sword high and let loose a defiant roar that sounded so inhuman as to be spine-tingling.

Rhokan turned around and walked, forcing himself to not look back.

* * *

Sathu'khar raised his double-headed great axe, then swiftly brought it down, bisecting the hapless victim held by a pair of Bloodletters. The mortal's corpse was cleanly sliced in half, and blood sprayed over the lesser Daemons as they released the severed halves.

The Bloodthirster of Khorne then kicked one of the halves down into the pit.

The pair of Juggernauts, Daemon Engines in the shape of great beasts, lunged forward as they tried to claim the fresh meat for themselves. The first bit on the lifeless leg, while the other clamped its jaws on the first's metallic form. Soon, they engaged in a savage match, each attempting to conquer the other.

Sathu'khar sat down in his recently fashioned brass throne as he watched the contest. After his emergence into real-space, he had immediately set about converting the mortals' so-called 'Iron Hold' into a stronghold worthy of one such as him. The pristine metal walls had been fitted with crude brass plates with sharpened edges, each with the Blood God's symbol painted in blood. The walls now sported sharpened spikes, like the lower jaw of a savage beast. The main courtyard had also been converted into a fighting pit, where his warriors and beasts could engage in blood-duels and death matches in order to slake their thirst between battles.

As countless hundreds of his Bloodletters cheered and shrieked in glee as the two beasts tore into each other, the front gate was thrown open and Yuro Katur stormed into the pit, disregarding the Daemon Engines.

Sathu'khar watched the mortal as he briskly walked along the edge of the pit, where several of his converted Blood God worshippers wished to have a front-row seat of the action. He appeared to be furious, and when one of his fellows tried to speak to him, he responded by bashing the man's head against a wall. The Bloodthirster felt the man's rage glowing like a furnace flame, and it pleased him. The Blood God always encouraged his faithful to kindle the flames of hatred and fury within their black hearts.

The mortal eventually appeared before him and prostrated himself. "Forgive me, my lord" he said. "I have failed. The Hateful One has led his miserable followers away from this place. I could not follow."

Sathu'khar snorted, blowing a puff of smoke from the slits of his nostrils. "Champions of blood and skulls do not ask for forgiveness, nor should they give it! You must pay your penance in blood and suffering, as all who fail mighty Khorne must."

"I have suffered greatly at the hands of the sorcerers" the mortal countered, standing and drawing his sword.

It was not a challenge, but a sign of his desire to draw blood.

"There is nothing that I cannot further endure, no pain that I have not already felt."

Sathu'khar stood. "We shall see" he said, proceeding to crack his fiery whip on the mortal's left, fleshy, arm. He roared in pain as the limb was severed from his body. It fell to the floor with a wet _plop_ , the skin blackening as it slowly turned to dust. The Bloodthirster of Khorne then kicked the mortal with a cloven hoof, sending him tumbling into the pit below. The victorious Juggernaut, its jaws dripping with the blood and guts of its defeated counterpart, turned its head. As it moved, its metal plates ground against each other in a chilling sound. It roared a challenge as the mortal charged it, sword in hand.

Sathu'khar smiled at the display. Only through the fire of battle could one hope to advance in the eyes of the Blood God.

* * *

"Archers at the ready!" Elliara barked, waving the men over as they knocked arrows.

Rhokan turned and slowly walked over to the ship's prow. With his Gift-enhanced sight, he could see with perfect clarity the dozen-strong squadron of green-sailed sloops led by a larger frigate which sported a flag depicting a tear drop against a field of green.

"They belong to Lord Szaros" Elliara explained. "He and I have clashed on many occasions. He suffers from the delusion that the entire Orokian Sea belongs to him."

Rhokan nodded. He remembered hearing the rival lord's name before, as the self-proclaimed 'Master of the Sea' had instigated numerous attacks on the coastal border of Lord Tenebrius' realm, only to be rebuffed at every turn by Elliara. Across Makandrascar, there were countless Gifted Lords ruling over the people; Lord Tenebrius had formerly been the most powerful, but with his demise, Lord Szaros was now one of his greatest rivals.

He would soon learn to quake before the Lord of Fate.

Their evacuation had allowed them to sail from Fakori Castle with eight frigates, with barely half that number crewed by soldiers. The rest were stuffed to the gills with villagers and farmers who were struggling to survive.

Rhokan and the other Gifted were capable of surviving for an extended period of time without eating, and every one of the soldiers only took the barest necessity when it came to rations. Still, their supplies were running dangerously low, and they would need to make landfall soon if they did not want to starve. That meant sailing to Nakamor Island, the seat of Lord Szaros' power.

The archers, their arrows knocked, pulled back on their drawstrings, ready to fire at the first command. As the sloops and frigate came closer, Elliara prepared to give the order.

Rhokan held up a hand, indicating that she stop.

The silver-haired woman pursed her lips and obeyed as he casually stepped onto the very tip of his ship. The Lord of Fate stood there, a defiant figure garbed in silver armour and wielding his eagle-tipped staff. He traced a pattern in the air with the black and red staff; as he did so, the orb clutched in the eagle's talons began to glow. When the glow shone brilliantly, he struck the staff on the planks at his feet. With a loud thunderclap, the glow flashed with near-blinding intensity for a half second before vanishing.

Everyone onboard his ships watched him with trepidation, not understanding the spell he had just enacted. Rhokan proceeded to thrust his hand forward, and the enemy ships did the unexpected: they turned around and joined the half dozen frigates!

The soldiers and people whispered and spoke to each other in amazement, while Elliara could hardly find the words. "You… you took control of their minds?"

Rhokan nodded.

She knelt before him and said "You truly are the Lord of Fate. None can stand before your might."

He did not look at her, instead keeping his gaze east, where Nakamor Island awaited.

The fleet, bolstered by the dominated vessels of Lord Szaros, sailed through the dark waters for another day. The soldiers maintained a tight watch, while everyone else huddled together for safety and warmth. Rhokan and the other Gifted Lords were just as concerned as their subjects, but they were careful to maintain an image of calm authority.

The Orokian Sea was, like everywhere else on Makandrascar, a dangerous and foreboding place. As the world was under the pall of eternal darkness, the water was completely obscured; apart from being vaguely able to make out its surface, none could see into its depths. The simple fact was that no one truly knew what was down there, and that terrified most people. Tales abounded of sailors falling overboard, never to be seen again, or vicious monsters rising out of the black depths to consume the sailors of rival lords in the midst of battle.

Rhokan found himself in the captain's cabin, a spacious chamber with a large wooden table, a desk, and a window that offered him a view of Makandrascar's utter blackness. He was hunched over the table, and yet he was still taller than any of the other Gifted Lords as they examined a map of the sea. A lantern hung above them, bathing their masked faces in a soft orange glow as the ship rocked slightly from side to side.

"Here," Elliara said from his right, pointing to a port city on the southwestern edge of a moderately sized island, "this is where we make port. It's one of Szaros' most fortified cities, but if we don't do something soon, then we're all going to starve out here."

"And what of the fleet that will oppose us?" Roni asked, standing beside his twin.

"It is unlikely that Lord Szaros will tolerate our presence" Toni, his mirror image, added.

"So what is to be done?" they both asked in unison, two halves of a whole.

Elliara stared at them for a moment, then looked back at the map and said "During the Years of Suffering, he keeps most of his fleets moored so as to not lose any ships and have as much manpower on hand for the Abominations. The ships we came across are the most sea-borne resistance we're going to come across."

"And what about when we come to the harbour?" the twins asked, both cocking their heads to the side.

The three of them looked over at Rhokan, who was memorizing every aspect of the map. After a moment of silence, he motioned to the figure standing off to the side, who walked over to the table. He was dressed in the manner of a ship captain, but the four of them could sense that he had The Gift. His blonde hair was close-cut, and a ceremonial sword was sheathed at his side. "I will present myself to the others" he said, his voice sounding stilted and awkward. "They will… not suspect one of their own."

Elliara and the twins shared a glance. This was the commander of the ships that Rhokan had claimed, his mind completely overtaken by the Lord of Fate. No trace of his independence remained, as he was nothing more than an extension of Rhokan's will.

"Once that is complete," the dominated lord continued, "we can fall upon the city and easily conquer it."

"I should say that we want to avoid killing too many of Szaros' followers" Elliara said, looking at the twins and Rhokan. "With Sathu'khar and his legions ravaging Makandrascar, we can't afford to kill each other over territory. We'll need as many Gifted and soldiers as we can get if we want the slightest chance of defeating it."

Rhokan gave a long look to the silver-haired woman and the twins as the dominated lord said "Do not worry. None shall defy me." It was as if the blonde man was nothing more than a mouthpiece for the Lord of Fate, and the others could not totally conceal their unease.

Suddenly, the ship listed heavily, and the Gifted Lords held onto the table as the Shadow Guard lining the room tumbled onto the right wall.

The ship levelled out a few moments later, and the cabin door was thrown open as a soldier entered. He bowed and said "My lord, you must come quickly. There's something in the water."

Rhokan swiftly walked out of the cabin, practically bending in half in order to get through the door as the others followed. The air was quite cool outside, and as always, the only source of light in the sky was Yorstrum, which almost seemed to blot out the stars themselves. Everything else was black, and the ships of the fleet were only visible because of the lanterns hung on every vessel. The water itself was just a black sheet; nothing within was visible.

A number of soldiers were on the deck, spears in hand, and Rhokan could easily sense that they were on edge.

Rhokan walked over to the edge and gazed down at the black waters. He couldn't see anything at first, and proceeded to aim his staff downwards. The orb clutched by the eagle's talons began to shine like a pure white flame, and all who were nearby recoiled, their sun-starved eyes clenching shut. The light pierced the surface of the water, and at first, there was nothing to see, just a vast expanse of cold nothingness.

Then, something massive swam past, the light almost absorbed by the dull red scales.

Rhokan furrowed his brow, knowing that they were facing yet another obstacle. Common legends told of the Jhorni, ocean predators the size of a carriage that could swallow ten men whole. Most sailors disavowed such stories, having spent decades without seeing any such creatures. Yet, every so often, a man would go missing on a fishing trip, whole schools of fish would disappear, and coastal dwellers would swear that they heard monstrous bellows coming from far off in the water.

It would seem that the legends were more than mere fantasy, a fact that Rhokan was learning to accept as something struck the belly of his frigate. Everyone on the deck held onto something to stay upright, while a few soldiers were knocked off their feet.

"Jhorni?" Roni said, disbelief in his tone. "They are supposed to—"

"—be legends!" Toni finished.

"Every legend has some manner of truth to it" Elliara countered, her face grim. "When you live on land, they're just stories, but when you live by the sea like me, then you know otherwise."

Rhokan nodded. Before anything else could be said, something burst from the water near the ship's prow. It was long and thick, and covered in dull red scales with rows of glistening fangs lining its wide maw. It had no eyes, but that did not seem to hinder it as it snatched a soldier with its mouth as quick as a lightning strike. The man screamed as his body was punctured by fangs half as long as him. The creature violently thrashed from side to side, and the poor man's legs were thrown aside.

The other soldiers started shouting as they advanced towards it, trying to stab it with their spears or shoot it with arrows. Nothing seemed to seriously damage its hide.

The Jhorni swallowed the soldier's torso, then looked this way and that in search of more prey. In that moment, as the Shadow Guard formed protective circles around the Gifted Lords, Rhokan fired a flaming bolt from his staff. It washed over a chunk of the creature's hide, and it let loose a keening roar as its scales were charred and melted.

Elliara then chose to act, grabbing a nearby spear and throwing it. The weapon lanced through the air, striking the inside of its open maw with perfect accuracy. It reared back in pain, swaying back and forth as it slowly slithered back into the water.

"Hear, hear!" a bald sailor cried, raising his fist into the air. "We killed it!"

Just then, someone shrieked from far off to the right. Rhokan and the others looked that way, and saw another Jhorni besetting one of the frigates that was full of terrified farmers. It snapped at those on the deck, claiming an unfortunate woman and her husband.

More noises drew their gazes to the left, where yet another Jhorni was attacking a captured sloop. More and more of the serpent-like monsters sprang from the water, until there were at least eight in sight.

Rhokan gestured to the right and left, and Elliara and the twins floated over to the ships most in distress.

The Lord of Fate then made his way to the prow and floated up into the air until he was level with the top of the mast. From this vantage point, he could make out the various Jhorni beasts as they ate soldier after soldier, sailor after sailor. As with the Abominations he had faced for the first few months of the Year of Suffering, he noted that they were essentially toying with him and his subjects, taking their time as they snatched up what must have been morsels to them.

Rhokan looked at the closest creature and stretched out his palm. A white beam of blazing energy shot out from it, striking its wet, scaled hide. It roared in agony as the beam tore through flesh like a blade through cotton. Its roar was soon cut short as the beam cleanly sliced its head off. The headless body limply fell into the water, while the head itself crashed onto the deck of the frigate, the pink tongue hanging out as it bled black, corrosive blood.

Just then, Rhokan was struck by an intense vision. These beasts, the legendary Jhorni, were not the real threat. They were merely an extension of the true beast, which was deep beneath the water.

With that revelation in mind, he dove down into the water, creating an air bubble around himself as he descended like a shooting star.

Rhokan shone like a beacon of light, his natural golden glow illuminating the water around him. He saw the long, serpentine bodies of the Jhorni wriggling like worms; they reached from the surface of the water and down into the murky depths.

Rhokan seemed to be diving for quite some time, just like when he had undergone the rite. He had never given it much thought before, but now the Gifted Lord was realizing that the perception of time on Makandrascar was skewed. Mostly, time progressed naturally, but there were instances of it being warped either by being stretched or shrunken.

The Dread Forest was large, but the length of time he had taken to venture into its heart did not match the time it should have taken.

In light of Sathu'khar's arrival, Rhokan was considering some impossible things. Was he somehow affecting the progression of time? The Abominations' incursions during the Years of Suffering always felt like an… otherworldly force was intruding on Makandrascar.

What if this force was somehow responsible?

If the intervening years were somehow altered so as to pass by quickly relative to normal, and then the Years of Suffering were slowed down, then that would explain a great deal. He had noted that the Abominations had been enjoying themselves, savouring the bloodshed. That behaviour would fit if they had sped up the time between incursions.

Rhokan's thoughts warred within his mind, and he was questioning yet another facet of their existence, an existence that was, upon closer examination, engineered as the perfect hunting ground for Sathu'khar and his legions.

Suddenly, he was struck by the body of a Jhorni, having been distracted by his mental bedlam, and his staff was knocked loose.

He tumbled through the water, the serpentine bodies spiraling in front of him. Rhokan used his powers to right himself, then looked for his staff. It was gently sinking deeper and deeper into the water, and it was slowly being absorbed by the shadows of the depths.

He dived down after it, reaching out with a hand as he closed in.

Just as Rhokan came close to grasping his staff, a Jhorni head burst forth from the black depths. It stared at him with glowing yellow eyes, and it was twice as wide as he was tall.

Its fang-filled maw opened wide, and Rhokan knew that it was too late to swim away from it. He made one final push, and finally his hand gripped his staff tight as he was swallowed whole by the serpentine beast. Its gullet was like a long, wide, fleshy tunnel that pulsated at an irregular pace. Farther down, near its base, was a pool, of sorts, of sickly green digestive fluids that bubbled like bog waters.

Rhokan slid down the throat, forced along like a piece of meat. Refusing to die as just another meal for this abhorrent thing, he took action. Wreathing his free hand in white-hot energy, he punched a hole through the beast's hide.

Its entire body convulsed in pain, and the Lord of Fate steeled himself as he tore a large, gaping hole that was large enough to accommodate him. Eventually, he broke free of the beast.

He swam out into the water, covered in a slimy coating of foul mucous and black blood. The corrosive substance was eating at his armour, and Rhokan could feel the stinging pain as it seeped through onto his skin.

Ignoring the pain, he swam down, diving deep into the black depths.

Eventually, he beheld the true form of the beast. His golden light illuminated the water around him, pushing back the complete blackness as it revealed a massive glowing eye that was as large as one of the Jhorni heads. It stared at him with such malice, as if all it had ever known was hatred and death. Slowly, more and more of its true body came into view, and Rhokan could see that it was massive, twice as large as the largest frigate on the surface. The serpentine Jhorni emerged from a gaping, fang-tipped maw like tentacles.

He did not know if it had once been a natural creature corrupted by Sathu'khar, or if it was just another form of Abomination that had entered Makandrascar in ages past. Either way, he could not allow it to live.

He aimed with his staff and fired a lance of white-hot energy that struck the beast's eye, slicing through it with ease and causing it to explode like a crushed grape.

The water around him vibrated as it roared in pain. Rhokan followed up the attack by mentally invading its mind. While it was impossibly ancient compared to him, it was simple, nothing more than an animal. He focused his prodigious mental strength into a psychic attack that shredded the beast's mind, causing it to howl in agony.

Within minutes, all of the Jhorni heads, including the one he had decapitated on the surface along with a few that must have been wounded by Elliara and the twins, retracted back into the beast's maw.

It then swam away, retreating into the blackness. It was heading west, back to Sathu'khar.

With the threat ended, Rhokan used his powers to propel himself through the water. Soon enough, he broke through the surface and shot through the air before crashing onto the deck of a frigate. A crowd of people gathered around him as he stood. The corrosive black blood still ate at him, and he tore his armour off and tossed it overboard, leaving his raw flesh on display. His mask was left on.

"He has saved us!" a farmer cried out. "The Lord of Fate has slain the Jhorni!"

"You've saved us, my lord!"

"All hail the Lord of Fate!"

All those gathered on the frigate, and everyone else on the other ships, knelt before him. Elliara, Roni, and Toni walked over to him, glancing at the kneeling subjects. Rhokan looked over at Elliara, and they gave each other reassuring nods.

For now, at least, they had survived the ordeal. They just had the entire world to manage.

* * *

Hey all! After a long absence, I figured I'd give you another chapter that shows just how shitty life in 40k really is.

After all, no one ever said dealing with a Daemonic Invasion was ever easy.

Please review/favourite!


	12. Taking the City

Yuro Katur fell on the group of soldiers, savagely cutting them down with his mighty sword. The weapon contained the bound essence of an Abomination, and as such it drank the blood of slain foes, granting him greater strength with every kill.

He was putting it to good use as he slaughtered those he once considered allies.

This particular group had occupied a watch post near the border of the late Lord Tenebrius' realm, and their relative isolation had served to protect them from the tide of blood that was sweeping the land. Yuro bisected one of them with a single blow, feeling that much more powerful by the kill.

One of the soldiers tried to sever his left arm, but the man's blade shattered as it struck the twisted, blood-drenched metal. Yet another of Lord Sathu'khar's gifts.

Yuro head-butted the soldier, hearing the cartilage of the man's nose break. The sound prompted him to head-butt him again and again, turning his face into a bloody smear. The former Castellan then landed a savage kick to his knee, and as the soldier collapsed from the pain, Yuro raised his blade and drove it through his gullet.

The Abomination within greedily drank his blood, gorging itself. Within seconds, his body became a dried, withered husk.

With only one soldier left, Yuro released his blade, letting it and the desiccated corpse fall to the blood-stained floor. The young man before him hardly looked like he was past boyhood, backing up against the wall and shaking as he half-heartedly raised his sword.

He almost reminded Yuro of his son, as he had the same blue eyes and thin lips. Yuro paused a moment, thinking back to the memory of his dead boy.

"P-p-please, Castellan!" the young man said, tears forming in his eyes. "You were one of us! How c-could you have joined them?"

His words brought a sneer to the older man's corrupted face. "No" he said. Junar would never have begged for his life. He had been a good boy, never once complaining whenever he faced hardship. Having been snapped out of his memories, the former Castellan growled as he lunged for the soldier, grabbing him by the throat.

Yuro had lost his right arm as punishment for letting Rhokan and the rest of his miserable kind escape from the harbour. Lord Sathu'khar had been willing to give him a second chance, but that had required days of unremitting battle within the arena.

His hate had seen him through that ordeal. His new lord would not replace his arm, and so he had taken the severed face of an Abomination and essentially welded it onto his shoulder.

Yuro, holding the young man by the throat, pressed his face into that of the monstrosity.

He could hear the soldier's muffled screams as his face was consumed by the animated, hellish visage of the Abomination. A few minutes later, he dropped the lifeless corpse, seeing that the flesh had been stripped from the face all the way down to the skull, which ran pink with blood.

With that, he retrieved his sword, feeling the entity caged within slurping as the blood was absorbed into the metal of the blade.

He stepped outside, where a number of his faithful soldiers, those men who had seen the light and united to slaughter their age-old oppressors, and several Abominations awaited. Both groups, equally marked by the gore of their enemies, kept their distance from each other as a precaution against what might happen if they intermingled.

One of the crimson-skinned monstrosities approached, walking on its hooved feet.

"The Herald of Slaughter requires our presence" it said, blood dripping from between its needle-sharp teeth as its leathery hide faintly glowed with a pink hue.

"Fine. Get out of my way" Yuro snarled, shoving past the Abomination.

* * *

 _Yuro Katur leapt in front of a soldier under his command, fending off the savage Abomination. Its canine face snarled as it attacked with a flaming sword, and the captain was barely able to avoid its strikes._

 _Ducking beneath a fiery slash, he lunged forward and pierced the creature's breast with his own sword._

 _It growled in pain as it fell to the ground, dropping its sword and attacking with its claws. Yuro felt the red-hot sting of those claws as they swiped at his face, but he did not falter. Pulling his sword from the Abomination's chest, he furiously hacked at its neck, never once allowing himself to tire. He felt the muscles in his arms burn from the strain, but eventually, he beheaded the beast._

 _Panting from the effort, he took a few steps back. The soldier looked at him in amazement and said "My thanks, Captain Katur."_

 _Yuro clapped the man on his shoulder. "Think nothing of it, lad. We're all in this together."_

 _He glanced around the battlefield. The 473_ _rd_ _Year of Suffering was raging across the land, and the Abominations were once more spreading death and misery to Makandrascar. The forces of Lord Tenebrius were committed to protecting the realm, for if they failed, then everyone they had ever known or cared about would die horribly at the hands of nightmarish monsters._

 _"Father!"_

 _Yuro turned and saw his son, Junar, approaching. The boy was in his nineteenth year, and he was rapidly becoming one of the best soldiers in the army. The proud father smiled and embraced him tightly._

 _"Well done, my boy" he said, gripping Junar's shoulder._

 _"A great victory, is it not?"_

 _"Indeed." This particular army group had been cut in half by the Abominations, and all things considered, the battle had been a success._

 _Just then, a group of horsemen rode up. Most of them wore the black plate armour of the Shadow Guard, while the rider in the centre of the group wore black robes and a white porcelain mask. Yuro and the rest of the army group knelt before their lord, and they could feel his gaze as he inspected them._

 _"Rise" he commanded. They did so. "I must commend your efforts, Captain Katur. I did not expect you and your men to survive without one of the Gifted to lead you."_

 _"You honour us, my lord" Yuro said, inclining his head. "But the true honour belongs to my son, Junar. He led the flanking assault which—"_

 _"I know all that I need to, Captain" Lord Tenebrius interjected, holding up a hand for silence. "You and your men will follow me. If you fall behind, you will be left behind." With that, the lord of the realm and his guards turned their steeds and began to make their way to the next battlefield._

 _Yuro and Junar exchanged a glance, but they complied with their orders, following at a jog as they were led by their lord._

 _The journey lasted for a quarter of an hour, but time almost seemed to pass by more quickly than usual. The captain could feel himself becoming invigorated, moving twice as fast as he normally did and feeling less tired. Lord Tenebrius was obviously empowering him and the soldiers under his command. It was a feeling which he had felt many times in the last two Years of Suffering._

 _They came to the edge of the Dread Forest, where the battle-scarred remnants of an army group tried to defend themselves against the oncoming Abominations that were charging from within the border of the gnarled, corrupted trees._

" _Move in, and keep them at bay!" Lord Tenebrius ordered._

" _You heard him, soldiers! Move into formation!" They quickly formed into ordered segments, their spears and swords at the ready as Yuro and Junar led from the front. As one, they moved forward, marching towards their comrades and the charging monstrosities._

 _They opened their ranks, allowing the remains of the other army group to file behind them and recover their strength. After reforming, Yuro's men halted as the first of the Abominations threw themselves into the spears, casually sacrificing themselves in a crazed rush._

 _A scaled creature the size of a cat climbed up the uneven trunk of a tree before launching itself through the air at Yuro, its maw open wide._

 _He ducked his head to the side, simultaneously slicing the fiend in half. The halves fell to the blood-drenched ground, leaking foul green blood. Another Abomination charged at him, savagely swinging its sword with reckless abandon. Yuro sidestepped an overhead chop and followed up by stabbing the creature's flank._

 _It roared in pain, and just as it started to attack, Junar stabbed it through the chest._

 _It then dissolved into a sickly green, flaming puddle._

 _The battle continued to rage, the clashing of steel and the screams of the dying puncturing the cold, eternal darkness of their world. Yuro paid attention to their slowly dwindling numbers, realizing that they would all have perished were it not for the presence of Lord Tenebrius._

 _A grunt drew his gaze, and he saw his son engaged with an inhumanly tall Abomination. "Junar!" he cried, running over to his son._

 _The creature stabbed him through the gut._

" _JUNAR!"_

 _Yuro tackled the Abomination onto the ground, and a nearby Shadow Guard pierced it through the head with his pike, killing it. The captain quickly scrambled over to his boy, who laid convulsing on the ground. Blood flowed from the wound, and the skin around it was blackened. "F… father…"_

" _Hush, Junar. Don't speak" Yuro told him, cradling his son's head. He could see Junar's skin rapidly becoming blackened, as if badly burned, and it felt cracked and uneven._

 _Suddenly, a bolt of energy struck Junar, and he turned to dust in Yuro's arms. The captain opened his mouth in shock, but only a choked cry escaped his lips. He looked up and saw Lord Tenebrius, his hand outstretched. The battle was wrapping up around them, and the chaos was lessening as the soldiers dispatched the last of the Abominations. "He was lost, captain" the Gifted Lord said. "There was nothing to be done."_

" _But, my lord!" Yuro cried, getting to his feet. "He was my son! There must have been something you could have done!"_

" _There was not."_

" _But you never even tried!" he shouted, his hands clenched tightly into fists._

" _You will all follow me" Lord Tenebrius ordered. "We move to the next battlefield."_

 _With that, he and his Shadow Guard departed. The remaining soldiers assembled, then looked to Yuro for orders. He stood, silent as a statue, for several moments, staring down at the ashes of his only surviving son. Without a word, he turned on his heel and followed his lord, a searing mark of hatred branded into his heart._

* * *

Yuro Katur made his way through Fakori Castle, the former domain of Elliara. Just like the Iron Hold, it had been fully converted into a stronghold for Lord Sathu'khar's forces. The stone walls were now covered with bloodied metal plates, and rows upon rows of spikes and the fangs of massive creatures lined the parapets.

He shoved his way through the ranks of Abominations and humans, alike, eventually emerging onto the ruins of the former docks. Rhokan's attack had burned and pulverized everything leading up to the castle walls, leaving an ash-covered shore.

Lord Sathu'khar was in the air, his great wings flapping as he hovered well above the sea. Beneath him was a massive creature, so massive that only one colossal eye and the skin around it was visible above the surface of the water. Sathu'khar spoke to it in a fell language, which Yuro could not recognize. It consisted of words and sounds that resembled growls and the scraping of steel in a forge. The creature emitted a pained groan that caused ripples in the water. Eventually, the gigantic eye receded into the water, out of sight, and the only visual cue was a great wave that ran away from the shore.

Sathu'khar flew over to him, landing with a thud. Clouds of ash were thrown up, casting a sepulchral grey wash over the darkness. The light from the castle's torches barely illuminated the great Abomination, which only accentuated his nightmarish, canine features.

"Have the last of the heathens been dealt with?"

In response, Yuro took a bag from his belt and dumped it at Sathu'khar's feet. A number of skulls, still slick with blood, spilled out of it. The Abomination head sewn onto his shoulder growled, its long tongue slathering at the sight of recently claimed skulls. "Skulls for the Skull Throne!" Yuro cried, thrusting his metal arm into the air.

"Skulls for the Skull Throne!" the gathered crowd echoed.

Sathu'khar's milky white eyes flicked down to the bag, then back to the former Castellan. "To gather skulls is our highest calling, but the Blood God is truly appeased by skulls of vile Sorcerers." He punctuated his point by stomping a hoof on the bag, crushing the skulls and burning the ashes around them.

Yuro sneered, but kept his gaze to the ground.

"Your former ward, the so-called 'Lord of Fate', damaged my pet" he said, smoke wafting through his blackened fangs. "Your race is feeble. Even the most powerful Sorcerers could not harm such a creature born of the Warp."

A familiar tide of anger rose within Yuro. "Rhokan", he spat, "is not like the others. Even as a babe, he repelled your soldiers with his mere presence. They called him 'Anathema'."

At this, Sathu'khar flew into a rage. He roared, grabbing Yuro with a massive, clawed hand and slamming him into the ground, throwing up a large cloud of ash. "Never say that name in my presence!" he bellowed, his hot, rancid breath causing the former Castellan to choke.

"What does it matter?" Yuro asked. "He will die, like all the others."

Sathu'khar's rage visibly lessened, though his nostrils flared as he puffed smoke from his fanged maw. "Ignorant mortal. You speak of matters far beyond your ken. Yes, Rhokan will die, but it shall only be at my hand. My armies will scour this world clean of life; all will die, as neither Rhokan nor anything he has touched can be allowed to leave this place. I shall have to create a new hunting ground when this is done, but that is a necessary sacrifice to deny the Anathema his prize."

* * *

Normally, to sail from Lord Tenebrius' realm to Nakamor Island would take two weeks, if the sailer never encountered any of the predatory Jhorni or a violent storm. Given the natural dangers of the sea, combined with the patrols of Lord Szaros, the journey was often considered too hazardous to undertake.

With Rhokan's guidance, the ragtag fleet made the journey in just three days after the encounter with the Jhorni.

They eventually came within sight of Raorshi, a thriving port city the capital of Lord Szaros. It appeared to be locked down in response to the Year of Suffering, as nearly every dock was full and the normal bustle of activity in such a port was completely absent.

Only the armed patrols of the fleet were given free rein to sail the seas, and that had led to their subjugation.

As they neared the island, Rhokan could sense a barrier, similar to those formerly used in Lord Tenebrius' realm, surrounding the city. At the very least, the Abominations could not appear within its boundaries while they took the city. Rhokan knew that any resistance to Sathu'khar and his unholy legions would require a place of strength from which he and his fellow Gifted Lords could actively resist the creature.

"Do you think they know?" Elliara asked as she stood beside him. "Do they have any hint that our world is being destroyed?"

Rhokan looked down at her, then returned his gaze ahead.

With his Gift-enhanced sight, he could see that the city was bordered by high walls, even along the shore. The only point of access from the sea was a small gap that led into the circular harbour. The only way to invade through there without severe casualties was to take the harbour from within.

Rhokan pointed his staff at the city, and his thralls aboard the captured vessels of Lord Szaros sailed ahead. The frigates containing the last of Lord Tenebrius' people remained where they were, within a fog that Roni and Toni were generating that concealed their presence.

The thralls did as commanded, sailing towards the harbour entrance. Rhokan could see the archers manning the walls preparing for combat, but when the thralls gave the signal, the archers stood down.

"That is a good sign" Elliara said, gripping the railing tightly.

He could sense her anxiety, as it practically radiated from her body like heat from a fire. He felt no such anxiety himself; he was absolutely certain that his plan would succeed, and ever since his first battle with Sathu'khar, he had actively repressed all emotion. He was as a mountain, cold and unfeeling, yet infinitely durable and impossible to topple.

"How will we know if they have succeeded?"

A moment later, one of the thralls began waving a torch along the top of the wall. Rhokan held his arms out to the sides, and a great wave rose behind them. It pushed the frigates forward, and everyone aboard grabbed for a handhold as their footing threatened to give out. They reached the harbour entrance in nearly the blink of an eye, and Rhokan lowered his arms, causing the wave to subside.

"Stand to!" Elliara called. The soldiers quickly recovered from the earlier jolt and assembled on the decks, their spears and swords drawn and at the ready. The remaining Shadow Guard stood beside her and Rhokan, their black armour melding into the eternal shadows of Makandrascar.

As they slowly sailed into the harbour, they could see Rhokan's thralls lining the top of the wall and along the courtyard surrounding the circular body of water. They all stood silent, not saying a word. Their former personalities had been extinguished by the Lord of Fate; he had hollowed them out, creating an army of puppets who would obey his every command. The frigates soon came to dock, and the soldiers disembarked.

Rhokan nodded to Elliara, who shouted "Take the city!"

With a mighty shout, the army charged into the greater city, and Rhokan casually floated down to the courtyard, flanked by Elliara and the twins. He had given explicit instructions to the soldiers to kill only when absolutely necessary, as they would need every able-bodied man and woman in the coming days. The enslaved captain, leader of the captured patrol group, walked over to Rhokan, his every action an extension of the Lord of Fate's power.

"You know what to do" he told his fellow Gifted, acting as Rhokan's mouthpiece. "Enslave as many as you can. Bring every Gifted before me. I will face Lord Szaros."

Roni and Toni shared a glance, while Elliara said "We understand. It will be done."

With that, they dispersed, and Rhokan began to walk through the city, accompanied by the thrall captain and a contingent of Shadow Guard. Horns began to sound as the din of battle carried across the city. The army of Lord Szaros had been caught completely off-guard, and men and women only half-dressed burst forth from their homes to fight. The Shadow Guard slew any soldier foolish enough to directly attack their lord, but Rhokan used his powers to convert the majority into thralls. As he walked through the city streets, he created a larger and larger group that followed in his wake.

His senses screamed that danger was imminent, and he responded by creating a shimmering barrier of energy around him and his rapidly growing army. A raging indigo fireball slammed into the barrier, setting most of the surrounding street on fire. Rhokan dissipated the barrier, then smothered the flames with a wave of his hand.

"Hold yourself accounted, invader!" a voice cried from above.

Rhokan looked up and saw a bulky man standing on a balcony overlooking the street. He was garbed in golden plate armour, with a helm fashioned in the appearance of a Dragon head. In his hand was a bronze staff with a blade on the tip, and it was glowing with the same indigo fire.

"I am Palatros, Defender of Raorshi and Right Hand to Lord Szaros! You have violated the sanctity of this city, and for that, you shall die!"

Palatros leapt from the balcony, and Rhokan shot into the air, pointing his staff at the fellow Gifted Lord. They slammed into each other, creating a shockwave that shattered the concrete along the tops of the nearby buildings. The Lord of Fate was considerably taller than his opponent, but Palatros was solid muscle, and his power with the Gift was considerable. They came to crash against the street, creating a sizeable crater. Rhokan grew his body to monstrous proportions, and his skin became as steel. He hammered a fist into his opponent's armour, denting it, then hurled him into the side of a nearby building.

As he flew through the air, Palatros fired a lethal bolt of pure energy. Rhokan struck his staff to the ground, and the bolt harmlessly washed over him like a spout of water. His opponent struck the building, shattering several walls.

From within the dust cloud caused by the damage came a series of indigo fireballs. Rhokan waved his staff in a circle, and the fireballs all coalesced into a flaming ring surrounding him. He lifted his arms, and the ring rose several feet into the air. With but a thought, it instantly changed into water, which fell and doused most of the street. Rhokan looked back at the building and snapped his fingers. The entire structure collapsed all at once, like a stack of plates that had slid off of a table. It came crashing down, causing the ground to quake as a massive dust cloud spread like a wave. It split in front of Rhokan, and he casually walked over to the ruins.

Through the haze of the dust and the broken segments of concrete, he could see that Palatros was still standing. The dents in his armour were repaired, and Rhokan sensed that his vigour was only partly diminished.

A dilemma faced him in that moment: if he used his power to subjugate Palatros, like he had the Gifted Lord on the sea, then the Defender of Raorshi would be so much less. Rhokan would command him to use his powers in the coming battles, but all of his creativity, his independence, would be lost. The Lord of the patrol had been nothing compared to him, but Palatros was strong in the Gift. On the other hand, he couldn't afford to leave him as a foe to harass him when all his efforts should be focused on the threat of Sathu'khar.

That left only one option.

Just as Palatros prepared for another attack, Rhokan thrust his staff forward. The orb clutched in the eagle's talons glowed as he enacted the spell. With his prodigious psychic might, he tore through his opponent's mental defenses. But rather than utterly destroy him or subjugate him, Rhokan used the access to provide a revelation. He showed Palatros everything about Sathu'khar and Yuro's betrayal and everything he had learned about the true history of their world.

The gold-plated Lord cried out in pain, dropping his bladed staff and falling to his knees. He threw his Dragon helm away, revealing a rounded face with brown skin and several tribal tattoos that twinkled like the brightest diamonds.

"How can this be?" Palatros demanded, clutching his head as he came to grips with the new reality Rhokan had shown him. "Our world, the Years of Suffering, the Gift… all lies?"

One of the subjugated soldiers came to stand beside Rhokan. "It is true" he said, the words fed to his enslaved mind by the Lord of Fate. "We can no longer afford to squabble among ourselves. We must band together against this threat, or everything and everyone on Makandrascar will die."

Eventually, Palatros began to calm as he reached clarity. "I… I see that now." He beckoned with a finger, and his helm slid over his head. He then grabbed his staff and looked up at Rhokan. "In the name of survival, I, Palatros, Defender of Raorshi, pledge myself and those who would follow me to you. May we all live to see ourselves freed from the grip of terror."

Rhokan nodded and extended a hand. Palatros took it, and came to stand. The bulky man only reached up to his stomach.

With their duel concluded, both Gifted Lords made their way towards Lord Szaros' citadel. The fighting was lessening, and Rhokan could sense that the defensive barrier around the city was being maintained. He had entrusted that task to Roni and Toni; they would either overcome the Gifted Lord projecting it, or convince them of the righteousness of their cause. For the moment, at least, they were safe from Sathu'khar's legions.

They soon emerged into a large courtyard, dominated by the citadel. A great metal gate barred the way for Rhokan's forces, and a tall wall made of concrete bordered the structure. Three Gifted Lords hurled lethal bolts of energy down at the courtyard from the tops of their own towers, and Elliara was holding her own in the midst of the chaos.

Rhokan, his hand wreathed in shimmering power, yanked the three Gifted from their towers. They flailed about as they fell, and all three struck the ground.

"Barkos!" Palatros cried. The bulky man rushed over to one of the Gifted, a young man no older than twenty with a series of extensive tribal tattoos covering his exposed torso. They twinkled just like Palatros' tattoos, causing his body to shine like starlight. "Barkos, are you alright?"

"Father?" the young man asked as he stood, shaking his head.

"It's fine, boy. You're fine."

Rhokan furrowed his brow at the sight before him: a loving father, attending to his son out of love. It caused several unwanted memories to claw their way to the surface, memories of a time when he had looked up to a father figure. An unwelcome pain clutched his heart in its talons, and he forced himself to lock it away.

Barkos flexed his fingers. "What…"

He trailed off as he spotted Rhokan. The Lord of Fate sensed the attack well in advance, and held out a hand as Barkos cast a plume of fire at him. The flames instantly extinguished when they reached Rhokan, leaving behind only a puff of smoke.

"Barkos!" Palatros admonished, standing between them. "Do not do that again, boy!"

"But father, he is the enemy! He is the right hand of Lord Tenebrius."

"Lord Tenebrius is dead" Elliara told him as she approached. "As is Antonar, and Tarjon, and Vorroth. Most of our people were slaughtered, our villages destroyed, and our castles taken."

The tattooed young man looked incredulously at her, then back at Palatros. "Is this true?"

"It is, Barkos. Rhokan showed me everything. The Abominations we have fought our entire history were merely the servants of a foul monstrosity who calls itself Sathu'khar. He has come to our world so that he and his forces can butcher us all. The petty feuds of our past must end if we are to survive."

The gravity of his words hung over all like a damp, heavy cloth. One of Szaros' Gifted Lords, a bald woman with skin as dark as the eternal night of their world, spat on the ground. "I will never willingly serve my master's enemy! You are nothing but a traitor, Palatros, and soon enough, you will—"

She was cut off as Elliara beheaded her with a single stroke of her sword. The woman's corpse slumped onto the concrete like a marionette whose strings had been cut, and her head rolled across the ground, stopping at the feet of the last of Szaros' Gifted.

The man glanced warily at Elliara, then at Rhokan. He fell to his knees and said "Please, have mercy, my lord! I will serve, I WILL serve!"

Rhokan stared down at him for a moment, then bid him to rise by crooking a finger.

He then pointed to the mighty gate that led to the citadel. Palatros, in combination with his son and the other man, used his power to break the various protection spells. The gate slowly raised itself, the sound of metal scraping against stone piercing the air. Now that the fighting was over in the city, there was an overwhelming quiet.

Rhokan began walking, followed by Elliara and their newest allies. The five Gifted Lords quickly entered the citadel, and they soon reached the throne room of Lord Szaros.

With a wave of his hand, Rhokan opened the thick oak doors. They creaked open, revealing a cavernous chamber that gleamed with fine decoration. Chandeliers made from the finest crystal hung overhead, tapestries woven of silk that shifted colours lined the walls, and golden statues of men wielding the same curved sabre flanked ruby steps that led up to a jeweled throne. Sitting there was Lord Szaros.

He was a portly man, with a large gut and fat, stubby fingers. He wore a gilded suit of armour adorned with fine jewels, and a crimson sash was wrapped across one shoulder.

"So, it comes to this" he said, rolling a gold coin between his fingers as he stared down at the floor. "Tenebrius' brats have come to my doorstep."

"Tenebrius is dead" Elliara said. "We follow Rhokan, our lord and saviour."

Szaros looked at them. "Oh, yes" he said slowly. "The 'Lord of Fate'. Tenebrius' right hand. The hope of all Makandrascar." He gave a harsh laugh. "You're nothing but an upstart. Tenebrius was an old fool, and his stupidity cost him his life. I am no fool."

Rhokan sensed movement from nearby, and the others seemed to sense it as well.

"Szaros' Fell Guard" Palatros said. "They are extensions of his will who live in the statues. None who have fought them have lived to tell the tale."

The fat lord stood from his throne, drawing his curved sabre. "Just like Tenebrius, you fail to understand the true nature of existence. All of us are slaves to fate, even you. None of us can fight it."

The statues began to shake, and one of them cracked along the front.

"I possess clarity while the rest of you stumble in the dark. To fight the Lords of Yorstrum is pointless. The only path to salvation is to swear fealty to them."

The shaking intensified, and a pair of the statues began to shed fragments as if they were gilded eggs.

"I swore to serve my lord long ago, and he granted me the use of his servants. This Sathu'khar is nothing; he is a bloody-handed child who lashes out at reality, which is ever-changing, ever-foreign. The Changer of Ways knows this, and your souls shall be his to toy with as he pleases."

At once, all the statues exploded.

In their place were eight Abominations, but they were so unlike the servants of Sathu'khar that they defied any label. Their garish pink bodies appeared as masses of constantly changing limbs, from tentacles to hands to hard beaks. In the centre of each were large, gaping mouths filled with three pairs of slathering tongues. Merely looking at them created a sharp headache that one struggled to overcome.

Like arrows loosed from bows, the eight horrors leapt from their perches on the statues' bases. They bounded off the walls and the floor, cackling and babbling incoherently in a fell tongue.

Rhokan wasted no time and fired a lethal bolt as Elliara and the others did the same. Most of the bolts missed their mark, but a few were accurate. The bolts blackened the pink hides of the horrors, but they merely shuddered in ecstasy. They then spewed foul, dazzling bursts of light, and Rhokan drew up a protective barrier over him and his comrades. The light struck the barrier, exploding in a near-blinding display. These Abominations felt utterly different from the slathering, bloodthirsty hordes of Sathu'khar, but trying to establish form to them was impossible.

Rhokan dropped the barrier, and his fellow Gifted launched a fresh assault of psychic attacks. Szaros' former Gifted Lord, who had surrendered after the beheading of his comrade, stepped forward as he cast blazing fireballs at the horrors. One of the creatures bounced from a wall and landed on him, its gaping mouth rapidly consuming his flesh as sharpened limbs broke his bones apart.

His shrieks of agony added to the chaos, and Rhokan fired a white beam of blazing energy from his palm. It put the Gifted out of his misery as well as bisecting the horror.

Nearby, Palatros and Elliara worked together to cut another horror into pieces.

Both of the corpses burst into pink flames, and a pair of smaller blue horrors emerged from each. Instead of cackling or babbling, these blue ones moaned in sadness, more akin to whining children. Palatros' son, Barkos, slew another pink horror, but it, too, split into a pair of blues.

They could not contend with these Abominations if they simply spawned more upon death. Rhokan threw one into a wall, and in that moment, he was struck by a vision: these creatures were present because a gateway had been opened in their world, and if that gateway were closed, they would wither and die. There could only be one possibility.

He looked at Lord Szaros.

The fat lord once more lounged in his throne, looking at the combat with a feral grin. It was he who had struck a bargain with this 'Changer of Ways', and he was the key to their presence. With that in mind, Rhokan started to approach the throne. A pair of blue horrors tried to attack him, but he used his powers to open a breach through reality. When he emerged, he stood before Szaros.

"Petulant child!" the fat lord growled. "You know nothing!"

He lunged with his sabre, the blade gleaming with a queer light, but Rhokan struck his staff to the floor. Szaros froze, held in place by his power; he may have been one of the most powerful lords on Makandrascar, a descendent of one of the Victorious, but before the Lord of Fate, he was nothing. As the battle raged behind him, Rhokan inundated Szaros with power, pouring it into every ounce of his being. Szaros mentally screamed, and a white light began to pour from his every orifice. The lights intensity only grew and grew, and soon his skin and armour began to shine.

Rhokan was suddenly pulled back by one of his comrades, and the three Gifted formed a defensive barrier in the very moment Szaros exploded.

His body burst in a gargantuan explosion of pure psychic power. The horrors shrieked and keened in ear-splitting tones as their tether to the physical world was severed. Their shifting, multi-limbed bodies writhed in agony as the force of the conflagration utterly vaporized them. The defensive barrier buckled against the force of it, but Rhokan added his power before it could fail, strengthening it enough to ensure that its integrity held.

Finally, it ended, and the Gifted lords lowered the barrier.

Szaros' throne room had been obliterated. Apart from the blackened floor, with several foul-looking stains where the horrors had died, the ceiling and walls were entirely gone. The throne room was located at the very peak of the citadel, and the eternally dark sky welcomed them. They could see all of Raorshi, and the soldiers and citizens below were massed in the courtyard and the streets.

"Szaros has fallen!" Palatros cried. "Bow to your lord, Rhokan, the Lord of Fate!"

"Hail, the Lord of Fate!" the masses cried from below as they all bowed.

Rhokan looked back at the spot where Szaros' throne formerly sat. Elliara stood beside him, and she said "He spoke of the Lords of Yorstrum."

He nodded. Every child on Makandrascar learned of Yorstrum, the Ocean of Endless Depths which was the birthplace of all Abominations. They also learned of the Lords of Yorstrum, who resided at its absolute bottom. They were fell beings, older than the universe and infinite in their malice and hatred. They birthed the Abominations and instructed them to annihilate all mortals.

Every Gifted Lord in the history of their world drew their power from Yorstrum, and it was a great source of pride for the people of Makandrascar. To use the fell lords' own power to repel their servants was an insult.

"My lord" Palatros said, kneeling before him alongside Barkos. "What would you command? What are we to do?"

Rhokan looked down at them, then over to the black distance where Lord Tenebrius' former realm resided. Sensing his thoughts, Elliara told them "We prepare for war. We will take back our world."

* * *

Sathu'khar roared as he brought his mighty axe down on a mortal fort. The blade cut clean through the stone and metal, slaying all the so-called 'soldiers' within and leveling the entire structure.

His legions poured across the land like a tide of crimson death. His Bloodletters savaged their foes, rending their flesh and bones in the midst of their bloodlust. Juggernauts trampled over the innocent and the sinful alike; the mighty Daemon Engines belched puffs of black smoke, their Warp-forged metal jaws dripping with gore. Even the mortals who had sworn themselves to his service pleased the Blood God with their willingness to slaughter their own kind. The Warband easily overcame the petty mortal realm to the south of where Sathu'khar had entered the mortal plane, drowning it in blood and death.

The great Bloodthirster raised a leg and stomped a mortal soldier with his hoof, crushing the corpse with the ease of drawing blood. A foolish rider charged him, astride a four-legged mount. With a flap of his wings, Sathu'khar bounded across the field and came crashing down in front of it. The animal reared back in terror, throwing its rider off. He was summarily consumed by a pair of Bloodletters, while Sathu'khar grabbed the animal with one clawed hand. He brought the screaming, kicking little thing to his mouth, biting its head off and swallowing it whole.

A great psychic backlash struck him from behind, causing him to growl in annoyance as his skin burned painfully, even to one such as him.

The Bloodthirster turned around and launched himself into the air. High in the sky, amid the clouds, he saw, far off in the distance, a burst of white light. It must have been a mighty burst of sorcerous power to be seen and felt from so far away. It could only have been the Anathema's spawn. Sathu'khar roared, challenging his enemy from afar. Soon enough, this 'Rhokan' would die, and Sathu'khar would take his skull as a particularly pleasing trophy.

Blood for the Blood God. Skulls for the Skull Throne.

* * *

It helps that I've been playing the crap out of Shadow of War these past few weeks. It gave me a visual reference for how the invasion of Raorshi would look, as well as the kind of lieutenants Rhokan would encounter.

As always, please review/favourite! I welcome any suggestions, and if anyone wants to correct me on my application of W40K lore, then please do.


	13. Hammer and Storm

In the cold void of space, nine worlds orbited a healthy star.

Four of those worlds were home to thriving populations of humans, descendants of colonists who had settled there over 10, 000 years ago. They were united in a confederation that ensured their continued safety and prosperity. The other five worlds were uninhabitable, their biospheres inimical to human life, and yet the Confederation of Mytos had established outposts on those worlds due to their vast mineral wealth.

Contact had been initiated by the Imperium of Man via the 86th Expeditionary Fleet, one of the strongest fleets of its kind. It was led by Kaius Caesarius, one of the Emperor of Mankind's Primarchs and lord of the II Legion of Astartes.

The Primarch had made contact with the Confederation leadership, inviting them to join the ever-growing Imperium. However, they had declined, not interested in surrendering their independence or their cache of pre-Imperial technologies. Such a refusal constituted death and destruction, for the Emperor Himself had decreed every human being in the galaxy to be subject to His authority, regardless of their desires otherwise. Darius Solorax and the other officers of the II Legion had called for immediate retribution as their response.

Amazingly, Kaius had let the Confederation's refusal stand.

Against the counsel of his commanders, the Primarch had not called for a punitive campaign against the Confederation. He informed their leadership that his fleet would remain at the edge of the system for one week in case they decided to change their position.

And so, the 86th Expeditionary Fleet stayed in orbit over Zhuritar, the outermost of the four lifeless worlds, and waited.

* * *

"And so, the Omnissiah saw fit to create us as beings of flesh and blood" Kaius said in his deep, filtered voice. "For the flesh is not entirely weak, but possessed of its own strength, otherwise He would not have made us so."

Kneeling before him, gathered together in the large chamber, the commanders of the Knowledge Hunters as well as the senior Tech Priests of the Mechanicum detachment listened intently, their heads bowed. Artisan Markovius was in the front row, along with First Captain Darius Solorax, and kneeling beside him was a truly massive warrior, even for an Astartes. Andion Videlis was the Prefect of the Praetores, Kaius' personal bodyguards who accompanied him on every battle as they stood watch over his person. He was large for an Astartes, almost as large as Kaius himself.

The Primarch was reading from the _Cogitatio Divinus_ , a tome which he had penned based on the teachings of the Exploratores from his late mentor, Lucratio Moran.

The Tech Priests were consuming every word he spoke, absorbing the knowledge and becoming that much greater, while the Astartes commanders, who were not adepts of the Cult Mechanicus, were in the process of their edification. They were nonetheless enthralled by his words.

"Do not hate the flesh, but pity it" Kaius said, continuing his sermon. "It is only through sacred metal that the flesh can be elevated and so come closer to experiencing the divine knowledge of our creator, the Machine God, the Omnissiah, He who rules over us all as the Emperor of Mankind. Strive to venerate Him through the metal, the machine, and realize Mankind's inherent destiny as His chosen messengers."

With that, he closed the large tome bound in leather and bearing the Mechanicum cog symbol superimposed over the Imperial Aquila.

The Tech Priests uttered a prayer to the Machine God, while the Astartes stood in silence. While most filed out of the officers' prayer room, the First Captain stayed behind as Andion took his place at Kaius' side.

Both men had been fitted with bionics in similar, and sometimes lesser, fashion than Tech Priests.

The First Captain's right eye had been replaced by a crimson ocular implant, and his right ear had been replaced by a Vox-unit. His right arm was bionic, echoing Kaius' own arm, and he sported a Bolter Mechadendrite that, while currently retracted, could extend over his right shoulder.

On his left shoulder plate, he bore the Raptor Imperialis, a sigil that indicated he had fought beside the Emperor Himself during the Unification Wars on Terra.

The Praetores Prefect was even more enhanced. His entire mouth, jaw, and nose had been replaced by a thick, armoured re-breather, and he had two ocular implants that glowed red. Much of his body was now mechanical, adding to his already prodigious strength, while Bolter and Claw Mechadendrites protruded from his armoured back and over his shoulders. He stood a head taller than Darius, and was only a foot shorter than Kaius.

Both Astartes' Power Armour sported the colours of the II Legion: silver, with rust-coloured shoulder plates.

On their left shoulder plates was the white Legionary symbol of an armoured hand grasping a scroll, while on their right knee pads was the numeral II.

"My lord," Darius said, inclining his head, "I feel that I must reiterate my concerns over your decision. The Emperor has declared every human being to be under His rule, and any who would oppose Him must be punished."

From the corner of his eye, Kaius saw Markovius eyeing the First Captain. "And so they shall" he replied. "As you say, the Emperor is the lord of humanity. The Confederation of Mytos will soon see the error of their ways. I have a strategy in place that will see them willingly join the Imperium."

The former Legion Master glanced at the Artisan for a moment, then replied "Are you referring to the Ork fleet that was detected in the next system over?"

Kaius nodded. He was glad to see the II Legion's senior officer displaying a methodical approach to warfare. It was a trait that he himself practiced, and after only a few years of campaigning in the Emperor's name, he saw the same thing in all of his gene-sons. All of them had their role according to their disposition: men like Darius were placed in command, while Andion and the other Praetores were blunt instruments, supremely fit for being his bodyguards, but not much else.

"During the Cleansing of Anshara, I made a dedicated effort to studying the Greenskins" Kaius explained. "Their love of war and battle is eternally at the forefront of their thoughts."

"Their single-mindedness can be used to our advantage" Markovius added.

"Quite right. I have calculated a 97.4% probability that they will enter this system and begin looting and pillaging, as is their custom. As the Confederation is incapable of repelling such an assault, they will contact us for aid, at which point they will have no choice but to acquiesce to any demands that we make."

He could see that Darius was grasping the finer points of the strategy. "If we had conquered them after their refusal, then they would have resented us. However, if the Greenskins attack, and we appear as the Confederation's saviours, we turn them from stubbornly independent to gratefully receptive."

"Exactly" Kaius replied, the slightest tinge of approval in his normally neutral tone. "They must understand that without the light of the Imperium, they cannot survive."

Just then, he received a transmission from the bridge. "My lord, this is Fleet Admiral Konstantius." Konstantius was the commander of the 86th Expeditionary Fleet's naval assets excluding the Mechanicum vessels, and was generally thought to be a competent officer. "Our Augur Arrays have detected the Ork fleet entering the system. It's just like you predicted."

"Have they detected us?" Kaius asked.

"Not yet, my lord. If they have, then they're ignoring us and focusing on the Confederation. There are enough void ships and Roks for all four of their worlds."

The Primarch nodded. He quickly calculated the odds: even if his Legion operated at peak efficiency in countering the Ork threat, they did not have the numbers needed to attain victory. Since he had assumed command, Kaius' masterful efforts had seen the Knowledge Hunters increase its size, constituting approximately 30, 000 Astartes.

But it was not enough.

"Bring us to a battle-footing, Admiral. I want the fleet ready to move at a moment's notice. Also, send out a message to any nearby Imperial forces and request assistance."

"It will be done."

Kaius then made his way out of the prayer room, accompanied by Markovius and Darius as well as Andion and a squad of Praetores.

As he walked, the ship's normal lighting became aglow with crimson as the battle klaxons started blaring. The scent of oil was thick in the air, and squads of Astartes, Tech Priests, and fleet and army personnel criss-crossed their way through to their respective assignments. Symbols of the Imperium and Mechanicum lined the walls of the straight, ordered corridors, and incense burners hung from the ceiling at every intersection, spreading sacred vapours that were pleasing to Machine Spirits.

Eventually, Kaius and his retinue arrived at the bridge, which was rectangular in shape.

Navy soldiers lined the walls, and bridge crew, whether they be human or Servitor, filled the six, rectangular pits on either side of the walkway, which led to the Admiral's chair.

There were no viewports looking out into space; instead, there were a series of sensor screens that offered complete image readouts of the fleet as well as the system.

The Gloriana-Class Battleship _Quest for Knowledge_ was the flagship of the 86th Expeditionary Fleet, and thus Kaius' personal vessel. At twenty two kilometres long, it was one of the largest vessels in the Imperium, matched only by the _Vengeful Spirit_ and _Adamant Resolve_.

The only other vessel that was its match within the fleet was the _Wrath of the Omnissiah_ , the Ark Mechanicus vessel that had been buried beneath the surface of Portentia. It was under the command of Archmagos Explorator Krakzon, who had become a great ally to the Lord of the II Legion.

Kaius had meticulously overseen the void ship's construction, planning every detail until it fit his design.

The battleship was thick and blocky in shape, with a pair of massive cannons protruding on either side of the flattened, reinforced prow. Its hull was strategically dotted with Lance Turrets and Macro Cannon batteries, enough to annihilate entire enemy fleets and reduce any planet-bound target to component atoms.

Its interior was masterfully laid out; Astartes quarters and vehicle housing occupied the majority, while the prow section was host to countless Tech Priest laboratories and testing chambers. Several decks were given to House Aurelius for the housing of their combat exoskeletons and serfs.

The _Quest for Knowledge_ could bring entire worlds to heel on its own. With the support of an entire Expeditionary Fleet, it was unstoppable.

"Admiral" Kaius said as they approached the chair. Lord Admiral Konstantius promptly stood and gave a salute, the servos of his mechanical exoskeleton whirring. He was an ancient man, by normal human standards, having lived for well over two centuries. As such, he had the rare privilege of serving the Emperor before the commencement of the Great Crusade, an accomplishment which earned him much praise.

"My lord" Konstantius greeted, clasping his mechanical hands behind his back. Kaius had chosen the man to lead his fleet because his mostly enhanced body was palatable for someone raised by the Mechanicum.

That, as well as his long combat record.

"What is the status of the Ork fleet?" Kaius asked, looking over at the sensor displays.

"Their fleet has entered the system, and projections indicate they're charging straight for the Confederation worlds."

The Primarch nodded. He could see the glowing green of the Xenos vessels as they began to descend on Mytos and the other three worlds like a swarm of ravenous insects. While he had initially been curious to examine the Orks' technology during his first engagement with them, he had quickly overcome that feeling.

"Receiving a transmission" a nearby Transmechanic said.

"Put it through" Konstantius ordered.

A section of the floor in front of the admiral's chair retracted, and a hololith projector rose in its place. It thrummed to life as it spewed a cloud of glowing light which slowly coalesced into a familiar pattern.

" _Imperial fleet, are you reading me_?" the figure asked, his voice tinged with static. A moment later, the interference was removed.

"Archon Naius" Kaius greeted, his tone neutral. The Confederation leader appeared smartly dressed in a crisp uniform with an antique saber on his belt. "Have you reconsidered our offer?"

" _You have to help us_ " the Archon said, his tone pleading. " _We've come under attack, and we need your forces to aid us. We cannot survive this on our own_."

On a nearby screen, a mass of green colour spread out like the grasping claws of a beast as they threatened to envelope the four populated worlds. "You have brought this on yourself, Archon" Kaius told him. "This is what fate awaits you if you remain independent. The Imperium represents order and unity; without our protection, you are helpless before the myriad terrors of this galaxy."

" _Please, just… just help us_!" The Confederation leader was practically on his knees, an Ork invasion forcing him to cast aside all thought of refusal. "We'll do anything!"

Darius and Markovius shared a glance. Kaius replied "If we come to your aid, then these are my terms: you must, without delay, swear allegiance to the Emperor of Mankind and pledge yourselves to His Imperium. You would be his subjects, responsible for the appropriate tithes and obeisance to the rule of law. This is non-negotiable."

He could see the struggle in the Archon's face. This was a man who had to decide the future of his people, and for him, that choice was simple:

Submission, or death.

Eventually, he nodded and said " _Very well. Save us, and we'll join your Imperium_."

"We will arrive shortly." With that, the transmission was ended, and the image disintegrated. Kaius turned to his subordinates and said "Admiral, have the fleet move to the Confederation worlds at best possible speed. Darius, see to the disposition of our forces. We must be prepared to deploy our troops as soon as we get our ships in position."

"Yes, my lord" the Astartes said, bowing before turning on his heel and departing from the bridge.

* * *

Darius Solorax, First Captain of the Knowledge Hunters and second in command under his Primarch, entered the drop pod. All around him, the First Cohort were preparing for the combat drop. They had the task of deploying near the Confederation's capital city and defending it from the Orks who were even now descending upon it.

His command squad entered the drop pod, and the doors sealed shut as they secured their restraints.

Each of the Astartes recited prayers they had learned from the Tech Priests that were meant to ensure the cooperation of the Machine Spirits that occupied their bionics and wargear.

When Lord Caesarius had assumed command of the Legion, one of his first and most significant commands was that every single battle-brother of the Knowledge Hunters, especially the officers, were to become familiar with the practices of the Mechanicum when it came to their own wargear as well as every vehicle and piece of technology the Legion possessed.

There had always been standard practices among the Legiones Astartes, but their Primarch had ensured that such practices were wide-spread, and he had seen to it that any man who neglected to maintain his weapons and armour was summarily punished.

As First Captain of the II Legion, Darius was linked into the entirety of the com network.

" _In position over Mytos_ " one of the bridge crew communicated.

" _Targeting enemy positions_ " a second voice added. " _Firing_."

The entire ship vibrated as its ventral Lances shot beams of destructive energy down at the Orks on the planet's surface. Lord Caesarius had specifically integrated that feature so his flagship could undertake planetary bombardments. Standard practice was to clear the intended landing zone of hostiles followed up by an immediate drop pod deployment.

" _Target area cleansed._ "

"First wave, launch" the First Captain ordered.

With his enhanced senses, Darius heard several dozen drop pods being launched from their bays. The first wave consisted of assault specialists who would secure the landing zone. Once that was accomplished, he would accompany the second wave, which would begin to reinforce and fortify the area in front of the city.

For a few minutes, he and his command squad waited, thinking of the coming battle. Darius mulled over the battle plan, considering every possible outcome and variation. He had made a solemn vow to never let the enemies of Man get the better of him. The Orks were nothing but savages, and savages were led by base desires which he and his brothers could use to their advantage.

Led by their Primarch, there was nothing they could not do.

" _This is Tribune Markos_ " the leader of the first wave voxed. " _Landing zone secure_."

"Understood" Darius replied. "Second wave, launch."

A mere half second after he gave the order, he was suddenly pressed against his restraints as the drop pod was fired from its bay. It shook violently as it tore through the atmosphere like a meteor, the rocket thrusters propelling it even further. After a handful of seconds, it slammed into the planet's surface. The impact would have likely killed or broken any mortal man, but Darius and his command squad were hardly fazed.

As their restraints automatically unsealed, Darius reached for the lever beside his head and pulled it, causing the drop pod's doors to blast open, thrusting them into the mid-day sunlight of Mytos.

They quickly disembarked, stepping onto the blackened soil. All around them, thousands of their brothers were moving to form firing lines and begin constructing defensive emplacements.

Darius looked up and saw the fiery trails of several dozen drop pods as they slammed into the ground in front of the city in a line stretching for miles across.

Behind them, the walls of the Confederation's capital city loomed a hundred feet high. With his superior vision, the First Captain could see the defenders on the battlements, clutching their lasguns as they stared in open awe. Mortals were often amazed by the appearance of the Astartes, and the people of the Confederation would be more so, having just witnessed the dramatic deployment of the First Cohort.

A shimmering blue dome covered the city, protecting it from orbital strikes as well as barring the entry of any transports. Such a shield was highly advanced, and it would have taken the Knowledge Hunters many months to overcome it. Now, it served as an additional bulwark against the Orks.

"Maniple Tribunes, report."

Darius received updates from the ten tribunes under his command. The defensive line was shaping up quickly, and they were on schedule.

Under Lord Caesarius' command, the II Legion had been restructured, much the same way that a Tech Priest would refit his body with mechanical implants. Now, they were structured into Cohorts, which consisted of five 1, 000 man Maniples which were organized into ten Companies of 100 battle-brothers. Companies were led by officers called Alphas, Maniples were led by Tribunes, and Cohorts were led by Captains.

As First Captain, and thus in charge of the First Cohort, Darius commanded the Legion's most elite fighting vehicles and mechanized support.

He looked out at the horizon. Off in the distance was an irregularly shaped mountain chain, one that was not native to the planet. In fact, that had previously been the location of a major settlement on Mytos until the Orks had dropped hundreds of Roks on top of it. Four blast craters stretched in a line approximately one mile from the capital's edge where orbital Lance fire had obliterated the initial Ork horde.

A green wave was quickly covering them.

"The Greenskins are converging" one of his command squad noted.

"As Lord Caesarius knew they would" Darius replied. He voxed the entirety of the First Cohort. "Brothers, the enemy will soon be upon us. We must hold here and keep them from ravaging the capital. We must show these xenos the might of the II Legion. For the Primarch! For the Emperor!"

"For the Primarch! For the Emperor!" they shouted, their voices a single, unified cry.

Within a matter of minutes, the oncoming Ork tide came within range. As one, Darius and his warriors opened fire, unleashing torrents of Bolter fire, Plasma rounds, and explosive missiles. Hundreds upon hundreds of the Orks perished in seconds, their alien bodies reduced to bloody mist as they were sawed by weapons range.

Despite their losses, however, the Orks kept charging, climbing over their dead in their savage bloodlust.

Darius fired precision shots with his Plasma Gun and Bolter Mechadendrite simultaneously. The implantation of the mechanical limb had necessitated the addition of a bionic eye which could provide fast targeting information in combat. It had already proved itself in over a dozen battles. As he fired Plasma rounds, the eye locked onto other targets, and the Bolter Mechadendrite fired automatically using that data.

As dozens of Orks were mowed down every second, a number of craft were descending from orbit. Countless Stormbird transports flew down, along with three bloated heavy transports, several times larger than the Stormbirds.

They came to land behind the defensive emplacements. The Stormbirds deposited allied Skitarii units led by countless Tech Priests, while the heavy transports unloaded something far more powerful.

Their cargo doors lowered, throwing up clouds of dust as they touched the ground. From within their holds emerged colossal Titan war machines, each of them towering over the defensive line. A Warlord led each group, which consisted of two Reavers and three Warhounds. They strode onto the blackened earth, their steps causing the ground to quake.

The fifteen Titans took their places just behind the fortifications, leveling their weapons at the Orks. They now possessed the most advanced weaponry in the Imperium, making them mighty avatars of annihilation.

The xenos briefly faltered at the sight of the gargantuan war engines, but they quickly resumed their charge.

They almost seemed to be moving faster, as if the appearance of the Titans made them more excited for battle. It was just as Lord Caesarius had predicted: the Orks' love of battle was their greatest weakness. By presenting a strong front, the First Cohort had made themselves an irresistible target. Lost in their excitement, the xenos would throw themselves as a green wave against the metal dam they had constructed.

One of the Warlord Titans fired its Gatling Blaster, raking the Orks' front lines.

* * *

"It would seem," Idrannar noted as he looked down the sight of his rifle, "that the strategy is compromised."

"As always, you have a singular talent for stating the blatantly obvious" Oroseth spat. Still, he quietly admitted to himself, the Ranger was correct; the strategy had taken a catastrophic turn, and now their hopes hung by a thread. Even so, a single thread was enough; as a Warlock, he was highly adept at divining possible futures. The skeins of fate were his to control.

After all, did he not perceive the threat of the Orks to his people? And did he not manipulate them into attacking this unimportant human system?

And yet, his efforts were proving for naught. He had heard of these new upstarts: _Mon-keigh_ who, in their arrogance, believed themselves the rightful masters of the galaxy. The so-called 'Primarchs' all acted the same, subjugating those who resisted them. Oroseth had known that this would occur in this system, and had planned for the mindless Orks to strike while both factions were distracted, thus eliminating three enemies in one stroke.

So why had it so abysmally failed? Even now, he could hear the tortured wailing of his people; there were so few of them now, and failure simply was not acceptable.

"These humans are not without some semblance of strategy" Idrannar said. "They're baiting the Orks, likely in an effort to draw out the Warboss and slay him."

Oroseth looked at the Ranger, his lip curling into a sneer behind his mask. "I did not realize that you had such respect for these primates. Perhaps your years of solitude have caused you to forget why we fight."

Idrannar growled, coming to stand and face the Warlock. "I forget nothing! You were not the only one who lost everything! My entire family was consumed with our world, their souls torn from their bodies to suffer eternal damnation!"

"You claim to mourn for our lost world, but you do not know the agony I feel!" Oroseth countered. "I feel their loss all the more keenly because of my abilities, and you—"

"Enough!"

The two Eldar looked behind them, to where the voice originated. Towering above them was a colossus, a Wraithbone construct who wielded a massive blade and stared down at them with glowing runes that might have been eyes.

"We cannot afford to bicker amongst ourselves" the Wraithlord said, its voice a haunting echo of the soul that animated its body. "We must preserve what was saved from The Fall."

"Of course, honoured one" Oroseth said, bowing in respect. "I meant no disrespect."

Idrannar glanced at him, then looked back at the venerable construct. "How do you suggest we proceed? The humans are deeply entrenched, and we cannot hope to face them in a direct confrontation."

Morseth Flameheart turned to look out at the battle raging below. Their vantage point along the mountains to the west offered them a superb view. "We are of the Craftworld Kurnous. We will strike from the shadows, and bring these humans to their knees."

Idrannar grabbed his rifle. "It will be my pleasure." He then departed, his force of twenty Rangers following him down one of the mountain paths. Oroseth watched them leave, flanked by the three squads of Warp Spiders that served as his escort. Gathered around them were fifty Guardians, those who were forced to take up arms against the enemies of the Eldar.

How far they had fallen, having to send artists and farmers into the horrors of war.

Morseth, the venerable Wraithlord, continued to gaze out at the battle below, gripping his massive blade tightly. "The rest of this miserable galaxy can burn."

* * *

Darius shot an Ork with his Plasma Gun, vaporizing its green head.

The battle outside the capital city continued to grind on, the green tide crashing against the defensive line of the First Cohort. He had noticed a steadily growing pattern of larger, more well-equipped Orks entering the fray, proving that more and more of their leadership were taking an interest in what they considered a 'proper fight'.

Off in the distance, a number of large Ork constructs could be seen. They ranged from simple tanks all the way to colossal walkers that rivalled the Titans of Legio Lex in size, if not firepower.

With his genetically enhanced hearing, he could detect a low, mechanical, rumble in the midst of the din of battle. It grew and grew, until the First Captain could identify the source.

He could see with his bionic eye a force of Orks riding crude, two-wheeled mounts that produced clouds of black smoke as they drove towards the defensive line.

"Target those bikes!" he ordered through his Vox implant.

Several of his brothers began to fire with their Heavy Bolters and Plasma Cannons, attempting to strike the fast-moving bikes. Several were obliterated, but that did not deter the others; in fact, the concentrated fire made them ride all the faster. Orks were nothing if not addicted to danger.

Several of them drove through the piled corpses of their brethren before slamming into the defensive line, destroying heavy weapon emplacements and striking many of Darius' battle-brothers.

The rest drove through the impromptu openings, breaching the line.

Darius turned and tracked one of the crazed riders with his bionic eye. A few precious seconds passed, and once he was locked on, he fired with his Bolter Mechadendrite. The implanted weapon spat explosive shells at the Ork, causing its body to explode in a burst of yellow blood.

He shot another with his Plasma Gun, and heard the whine of rockets just in time to turn around and see the jump pack-equipped Orks careening towards the rear of the line. One of the flying Orks landed close by, and Darius struck it with his Plasma Gun before stomping and crushing its head with his boot.

Another came screaming down at him, and he barely had time to block as it crashed on top of him.

He struggled against the green xenos, applying all of his post-human strength as he kept the roaring chainaxe from beheading him. The beast was larger than most of its kind, which, according to Ork physiology, meant that it was something of a leader among its kind. It growled, opening and closing its mouth full of sharpened teeth as it anticipated the kill.

Suddenly, the beast tensed as something pierced its side. It opened its mouth, but no noise emerged. A half second later, its teeth blackened and its eyes burst, spraying the First Captain's helmet with yellow gore.

He forced the corpse off of him, and was greeted by the sight of a Mechanicum Electro-Priest.

Tech Priests of particular zeal, they were known for using the electricity of their own bodies as a weapon in battle. The individual who stood before him was bare-chested, with bright strips of Electoo implants criss-crossing in intricate patterns under his skin. His eyes were covered by a piece of cloth, as the amount of electricity that surged through an Electro-Priest's body usually caused their eyes to burst.

Darius took the priest's hand and came to stand. He could see that the Orks were intensifying their attack, bringing more mechanized and elite forces into the fore.

One of the massive, crude, walker vehicles was lumbering towards them, with vicious claws for hands. One of the nearby Reaver Titans unleashed a barrage of missiles on the xenos construct, utterly destroying it. However, more were on the way.

Now was the time to enact phase two of the plan.

"This is Solorax" he said into his Vox-unit. "Second Cohort, deploy to your rally points and await my order."

" _Acknowledged_ " Second Captain Torghar responded.

Within a few minutes, Darius could see a number of Stormbirds and drop pods depositing the Astartes of the Second Cohort to the east and west of the Ork horde. Once they were in place, they would drive into the green tide like a blade through flesh, while the armoured elements of the First Cohort and some of the Titans would advance as well, crushing the Orks under a threefold strike.

During his service to the Emperor and the II Legion, Darius had made it a point to study all the strategic theory that he could.

As such, he had come across the _Hammer and Storm_ which came from old Albia on Terra: deliberately bait your enemy with a fixed fighting force and then striking in overwhelming force when they presented themselves.

Just as the deployment was underway, he caught frantic Vox communications from Torghar's Maniples along the western mountains, indicating that a premature battle was taking place. The First Captain gazed out at that location, zooming in with his bionic eye. Off in the distance, there were signs of fighting between the Astartes and an unknown force. From what little he could discern, he knew that they were not Orks.

With his Vox-unit, he contacted the _Quest for Knowledge_ in orbit. "My lord, this is Solorax. The battle plan is in jeopardy. We have encountered unknown xenos hostiles along the western lines."

* * *

In orbit over Mytos, the 86th Expeditionary Fleet clashed against the seemingly never-ending armada of the Orks.

Cruisers unleashed broadsides with their Macrocannons while assorted Kroozas responded by simply ramming their targets in sheer, brute-forced tactics. Squadrons of escort ships were swept aside by the unstoppable advance, while capital vessels raked their ramshackle targets with Lance turrets and their preponderance of weapons batteries.

"Unity Squadron, move in and strike at their flank!" Lord Admiral Konstantius bellowed from his command chair. On the various sensor screens, the ancient man could see the group of Grand Cruisers making a strafing run against the Ork armada.

They fired a series of broadsides, obliterating half a dozen enemy vessels and crippling four more, but that did little to stay the advance.

Kaius, standing behind the admiral, gazed at the sensor screens, taking in every piece of information about the battle. The Orks had arranged themselves into a solid mass of ships, forcing his 86th Expeditionary Fleet to strike at their flanks like a pack of ocean predators attempting to bring down a massive leviathan.

The Primarch beheld the designs of the xenos craft, examining them with his bionic eye. When he had first encountered the Orks during the Cleansing of Anshara, his natural curiosity and Exploratores creed had driven him to study their technology.

He had found that their science was complete blasphemy against the Machine God. Their void ships, vehicles, and weapons should not have been, and yet they operated for their masters.

Even his Exploratores sensibilities shuddered in revulsion at the thought.

The fleet was spread thinly; while the capital world of Mytos bore the brunt of the Ork WAAAGH!, the other three confederation worlds were also under attack. The 86th fleet was mighty, but it had been forced to divide in order to defend all four populated worlds, and soon enough they would be overwhelmed.

The Confederation's vessels, analogous to the Imperium vessels in terms of technology, aided somewhat, but theirs was a fleet used to escorting merchant vessels. They were hardly the consummate warriors of the II Legion.

" _My lord, this is Solorax_ " the First Captain's voice said, sounding garbled from the din of battle. " _The battle plan is in jeopardy. We have encountered unknown xenos hostiles along the western lines_."

Kaius' left, organic, brow furrowed as he pondered the implications. Darius' plan had been brilliant, providing a tempting target for the Orks in the first stage and then initiating a three-fold strike against the xenos commanders when they appeared for the fight. With one of the pincer forces under attack, then their chances of decapitating the Ork leadership were rapidly dwindling.

"What is the status of the defensive line?"

There was a moment's pause, and then a grunt quickly followed by the unmistakable sound of a Plasma Gun being fired. " _The Greenskins are beginning to deploy their armour against us, and their advance shows no signs of slipping_."

Just then, a Transmechanic reported "Transmission incoming from the capital."

"Put it through" Kaius ordered.

The bridge's hololith projector activated, and the image of Archon Naius appeared. " _Primarch Caesarius, come in! You must help us. Hostiles have somehow infiltrated the city, and they are sabotaging our systems. If we do not eliminate them, then our shields may fall and my people will be slaughtered. You said you would help us_!"

"And so we are" Kaius replied, his tone neutral. "If not for my Astartes, your people would have fallen to the Orks by now. Rest assured that I will ensure that these saboteurs are dealt with. You must allow some of my forces into your city."

" _Fine, but hurry_!"

The image dissipated, and the Lord of the II Legion said "Darius, there are enemy saboteurs within the city. The Archon has agreed to allow entry. Dispatch a force into the capital to deal with the threat."

" _As you command_ " the First Captain dutifully replied. " _And what of the hostiles to the west_?"

"I will deal with them." With that, the transmission was closed. "Admiral Konstantius, you have the fleet."

"My lord" the ancient man said, bowing his head.

Kaius then turned and walked out of the bridge, Andion and a squad of Praetores close behind. As he walked, he opened another transmission with his implanted Vox-unit. "High Lord Julian, I require the presence of you and your Knights."

" _I shall assemble them_."

* * *

Kaius stood within the hold of his personal Stormbird as it touched down at the base of the western mountains. The boarding ramp lowered with a hiss, and his Praetores bodyguards descended first, their weapons at the ready.

The Primarch then followed them outside, flanked by Andion and the squad that was eternally at his side.

They were the Praetores Venerabilia, the most elite squad within the formation. While the Praetores as a whole accompanied him into battle, only they had the honour of guarding his person. As such, they were eternally vigilant, prepared for any threat. The Company-sized formation were the most capable warriors of the II Legion.

All around them were elements of the Second Cohort, assembled for combat against the Orks. Several of them were dead, with smoking holes in their helmets.

Before them loomed the western mountains, wherein the mysterious xenos hid.

Kaius could see at least several dozen positions where an enemy sniper might be hiding. He looked to the left, and in the process he shifted his weight onto his left foot, causing his body to lean ever so slightly to that side.

A loud crack sounded from the cliffs as a shot passed millimetres past his head.

"Form up!" Andion barked. In response, the Praetores clumped together, several of them raising their Scutum Battle Shields. One of his many inventions, the shields were augmented by power fields which provided superb protection from any form of weapon, which made them obvious choices for his bodyguards.

Kaius looked up, searching for the sniper.

His organic eye saw nothing, but as he zoomed in with his bionic eye, he noted an odd pattern on a cliff overlooking them. He could identify several shapes, including a crouched humanoid body and a precision rifle.

He took aim with one of his Plasma Mechadendrites, charged it, then fired. The glowing ball of superheated Plasma shot through the air, obliterating the cloaked target in a shower of rocks.

After a moment's search, the Lord of the II Legion identified another hidden sniper. He summarily destroyed it. Whoever these hostiles were, their cloaking technology was not sufficient to conceal them from his implants.

Suddenly, several dozen humanoid figures appeared as if from nowhere, crouched like predatory cats about to strike. They wore bulky crimson armour, and sported long, thin blades on their arms. Their faces were hidden by bone-white helms, and they stared down at them through glowing yellow lenses.

"Prioritize capture" Kaius ordered, extending several thin lashes from his left vambrace. "I want specimens for dissection."

The Praetores started firing with their Bolters and Plasma weapons, but the xenos disappeared, suddenly reappearing in their midst. Several of Kaius' bodyguards were stabbed with the long, thin blades by assailants who teleported away faster than the blink of an eye.

The area erupted into chaos as the Astartes tried to combat a foe who could attack with near-impunity. One of them would be caught by surprise and eliminated, but the rest would continue to teleport at instantaneous speeds. Kaius tried to keep track, but even his superhuman, mechanically enhanced sight had difficulty establishing a pattern. One of the crimson-armoured xenos appeared in front of him, aiming a stab at his head with its needle-like blade.

Andion struck it in the back with his larger than average Thunder Hammer, smashing its teleport unit and breaking every bone in its body with an audible _crunch_.

Kaius caught sight of one who was about to stab a Praetores in the back, and his superior reflexes gave him the time to grab it with his Claw Mechadendrite. With a mental command, he crushed the life from the xenos, eliciting a tortured scream that drowned out the sounds of the hydraulic pistons.

As he discarded the broken corpse, alien weapons fire struck from above. The Primarch looked up and saw several dozen of what appeared to be the same species, but these were garbed in far less ornate canary yellow armour.

They fired ammunition at an astounding rate, and it was enough to shred even the plasteel armour of the Astartes. More and more of the Praetores fell every second.

Kaius could see that they were led by an individual in yellow armour with a mauve cloak and a bone-white helm. Its armour was carved with several intricate runes, and it wielded a blade with fine red tassels at the hilt. The xenos twirled the blade before thrusting it directly at him, and the runes on his armour glowed as it fired a glowing bolt of energy.

One of the Praetores deliberately placed himself in front of Kaius, and the bolt struck him square in the chest, burning a hole through his armour and killing him instantly.

It was clear now that these hostiles were led by a Psyker.

Exceedingly rare within the human race, Psykers were individuals born with a particular gene that allowed them to produce supernatural phenomena. For one of sufficient power, almost nothing was impossible. Kaius had made an effort to try to study these individuals, and possibly recreate the gene that gave them their powers, but their scarcity had prevented much progress.

This species, it would seem, produced members that were far more powerful than anything Mankind could boast.

In response, Kaius aimed at the firing line of enemy soldiers with his Plasma Mechadendrites. He charged them and fired, watching the twin Plasma rounds obliterating large chunks of the cliff the enemy was using, killing several and dislodging others.

The Psyker, however, almost as if anticipating the attack, leaped from his perch and avoided the Plasma rounds.

It nimbly landed on a thin outcropping, and Kaius fired once again. The xenos leader avoided the strike, leaping like a cat among the rocks. The Lord of the II Legion continued firing at his foe, only to miss each time. Eventually, the Psyker landed on ground level, not fifty feet from where he stood. Knowing perfectly well after his first glance that he was nowhere near fast enough, Kaius had opted to herd the xenos down to an even battleground.

He sent a transmission through his implanted Vox-unit. The reinforcements would arrive shortly.

"I would know your name" he said as the battle raged around them. One of the enemy footsoldiers charged at him, and in response, he struck with the lashes from his left vambrace. They struck their target, their Power Field crumpling its armour and hurling it back.

"I am not interested in bandying words with you, _Mon-keigh_ " the Psyker spat, its voice dripping with arrogance and scorn. "For the good of all, you must die!"

It took a step forward, and suddenly faltered, as if struck by some invisible force. The xenos gripped its helmet with its free hand, looking like it was barely able to stand.

"What… is… this?" it growled. The Psyker thrust its sword at Kaius, casting another offensive spell, but this time, the crackling bolt fizzed out of existence in half a second. Something was repressing its powers.

It cried out in pain just as Kaius' peripherals detected Andion moving forward a step. Deciding to test a theory, he said "Andion, retrieve the Psyker. I want it intact. Mostly."

The Astartes nodded and proceeded to advance on the xenos leader.

Each step seemed to cause it more and more pain, to the point where it collapsed onto the dusty ground in sheer agony. By the time Andion reached it, the Psyker was incapable of moving. The Praetores Prefect wrenched the blade from its grasp and shattered the weapon over his knee.

A moment later, a bulk transport flew overhead, its engines whipping up large dust clouds as it hovered above the battle. Its massive port side hatch opened, revealing the gleaming armour of its passengers.

The Knights of House Aurelius, ten in number, proceeded to leap down onto the ground, creating small craters and causing the ground to quake with their considerable bulk.

The combat exoskeletons, painted in the house colours of black and silver, gleamed in the bright sunlight, dressed in the livery befitting an ancient house that celebrated a dynasty of great warriors. The majority of their house warriors were currently deployed to the east, on the opposite side of the Ork horde, but this group were more than capable of dealing with these xenos.

At their head was High Lord Julian, his exoskeleton bearing a rust-coloured strip on the top as well as being more resplendent than the others.

One of the knights raised a metal foot and crushed one of the crimson-armoured xenos, prompting the rest to make short work of the others with their Battle Cannons. Within minutes, the xenos force was crushed, with half of their number dead and the other half maimed or otherwise disabled.

Suddenly, the tip of a massive blade pierced one of the knights, severing its mask in half and instantly killing the pilot within.

The blade was then retracted, and the fallen knight crumpled into a lifeless heap as its killer was revealed. The blade belonged to a war construct that, in overall design, was not dissimilar from a Knight or a Titan. The similarities ended there, as the walker was clearly of alien design. Its entire structure was made from a bone-like material, and it appeared thin and gangly. Its head was a round, elongated thing coloured yellow with several carved, glowing runes on its smooth surface.

The appearance of the enemy walker invigorated the remaining enemies, and the battle started anew. They all seemed to make a concentrated effort to kill Kaius; no doubt they hoped that, with his death, the Orks would destroy the Confederation with ease.

They would be sorely mistaken.

Despite losing nearly half their number, the Praetores all clumped together, forming a protective shield around their Primarch. The Astartes on the periphery raised their shields and their Power Fists, while their comrades behind them fired with Bolter Mechadendrites.

Meanwhile, the Knights of House Aurelius engaged with the xenos walker. One of their number tried to engage it, but the alien construct swiftly cut it down.

High Lord Julian charged, bringing his gilded Reaper Chainsword to bear against the foe which had claimed the lives of two of his nobles. The two engaged in an epic duel, their respective swords furiously clashing as each tried to slay the other. The Knight's fury would not be denied, and it proved to be more than a match for his opponent's unnatural grace and agility.

Slamming into it with the weight of his exoskeleton, the High Lord followed up by slicing his Chainsword along its front, carving a massive fissure in the bone-like material.

The other xenos paused at this, likely not expecting their champion to falter.

Capitalizing on their enemies' moment of weakness, the Praetores launched a counter-attack, steadily moving forward and cutting down all those who were still standing. None of them lost themselves in the fighting; they were not savages, and they carried out their duty with stoic calm.

Meanwhile, Kaius could see the xenos walker stumble back against the side of a cliff, just as surprised that it had been injured. The Lord of the II Legion could see with his bionic eye that its wound was miraculously healing, the material actually reconstructing itself.

"Fascinating" he said. "I must have samples." He then aimed at the walker with his Plasma Mechadendrites, firing after charging.

The Plasma rounds struck its midsection, melting away several layers of material.

It dropped the massive sword in its hand, slumping against the cliff. The battle was effectively over, with all of the xenos either dead or crippled. Glancing at his defeated enemies, Kaius knew that one thing remained. He turned to look at High Lord Julian, who awaited his order. "Take your vengeance, High Lord."

The Knight fired up his Reaper Chainsword. "Thank you" he said in his deep, filtered voice. He proceeded to stab the weapon through the walker's torso, the Adamantium teeth tearing through it like wood. He then ripped the blade free, bisecting it.

As its severed torso fell to the ground, the surviving xenos despaired, wailing in grief at the sight of their champion so viciously killed. High Lord Julian then stomped on its head.

As Lucratio Moran had taught him all those years ago: _an enemy is never truly defeated until their leader is broken and shown to be weak_.

Kaius turned to his Praetores and said "Gather the survivors and prepare them for transport."

The Astartes set about their task, collecting the broken and maimed xenos and carting them off to the Stormbird. The enemy Psyker appeared to be catatonic due to his proximity to Andion. The Primarch intended to pursue the matter once the Ork threat was dealt with and the Confederation secured.

Just then, he received a transmission from the _Quest for Knowledge_. "Admiral Konstantius, report."

" _My lord, it's a miracle! The Wolves have come to our aid_!"

"The VI Legion?" Kaius asked. Though he was glad for any assistance against the Ork WAAAGH!, he found the Space Wolves' propensity for battle-lust and feral, tribal practices to be distasteful. He approached war like a strategist, planning for every contingency and assigning his forces as needed. Russ and his Legion fought like drunken brawlers.

Admittedly, that just the sort of force needed to fight the savage Greenskins.

" _And the XVI_ " the Lord Admiral added, sounding quite enthused. " _The Lords Horus and Russ have come as well. These foul xenos shall feel the Emperor's wrath this day_!"

"That they shall" Kaius said neutrally, ending the transmission. At least Horus was here, as well. He was far more agreeable than the Wolf-King. Kaius turned to face the vast green tide that was still throwing itself against the defensive line led by Darius. Now that the second xenos threat had been eliminated, they were free to focus on the Orks. With his Vox-unit, he said "Launch the attack."

Both forces of the Second Cohort proceeded to charge into the Orks' flanks, the two armoured assaults forming into wedge shapes as they cleaved through Greenskin ranks like a saw through flesh.

The First Cohort also participated, with its armoured elements as well as several of the Legio Lex Titans advancing on their foes, pulverizing the Orks before them.

Before long, the forces of the Imperium would be triumphant.

* * *

This is the sort of thing I love about 40K: big, epic battles with genetically modified Space Marines against hordes of murderous aliens on distant planets where both sides use really big guns and massive war machines to try to kill each other. I also thought it would be cool to include some Eldar, because those filthy, arrogant xenos always have their fingers in everybody's pot, manipulating events for their own means.

Please review/favourite!


	14. Mork and Gork

The 86th Expeditionary Fleet continued to clash with the ramshackle armada of the Orks.

While each of the four Confederation worlds was threatened by the Greenskins, the main thrust was focused on Mytos. That was where the II Legion had concentrated its forces, and that was where the majority of the Orks were heading. As a by-product, the other three worlds were given a slight reprieve.

The Battle of Mytos had raged for almost a solar week, and the Knowledge Hunters were struggling to keep the never-ending tide of xenos at bay.

Fortunately for them, deliverance was at hand.

The void ships of the 86th detected a fleet of Imperial vessels translating from the Warp, and they were even now making best possible speed for Mytos. News had spread quickly that the reinforcement fleet was composed of not just the Space Wolves, but also the Luna Wolves.

Two of the Emperor's most lethal Astartes Legions slammed into the Ork vessels, delivering righteous fury with their guns as well as Space Marines in targeted boarding actions.

While some of the Space Wolves vessels focused on the void battle, most of them punched a hole through the xenos to deliver their warriors onto the planet's surface, including their Primarch, Leman Russ. Such savage warriors were needed against a feral enemy like the Orks. The Luna Wolves, led by the preternatural abilities and doctrines of Horus Lupercal, drove through the armada like a dagger aimed at the heart.

The Greenskin flagship was a massive Space Hulk, an amalgam of several derelict vessels that had been fused together in a horrific mobile command centre. Such a craft was utterly obscene to the Knowledge Hunters, who valued logical, well-thought out construction and tactics. This was the target of the Luna Wolves, who launched a daring boarding action on the hulk.

The Knowledge Hunters would aid their brethren in this.

Daxus Monokar, Captain of the Third Cohort, elected to undertake this mission.

Commanding from his Battle Barge, _Immortal Comprehension_ , he came alongside the Space Hulk's port side, while the _Vengeful Spirit_ took the starboard side.

Daxus was a veteran of the II Legion, having been among those inducted into its ranks after the conquest of Jupiter shortly after the commencement of the Great Crusade. He had been born into the Jovian Void Clans, and thus had lived under the thrall of oppressive xenos overlords. When the Emperor's forces annihilated the aliens, Daxus, as well as the rest of the Void Clans that came to form the core of the II Legion, had become an Astartes.

The traditions and character of his people had left an indelible mark on the Legion. They had become adept at void combat and ship-to-ship boarding actions, hence the appellation of the 'Void Hounds'. While they no longer bore that name, Daxus and the majority of his battle-brothers still carried the memory of their original identity in their hearts.

It was a memory that would bring great calamity upon the Orks.

The Third Captain entered the boarding torpedo with his command squad, his Graviton Gun in hand. An ancient weapon whose design pre-dated the Imperium of Man, it operated with technology that was still poorly understood by modern science. It was the captain's most treasured possession, and a truly lethal implement in his hands.

The front hatch of the boarding torpedo sealed shut, and it was loaded into place. Daxus whispered a prayer for his wargear as his squad did the same for theirs.

Once his prayers were complete, he linked with the Third Cohort's Vox network. "Launch boarding torpedoes" he ordered.

A few seconds later, they were fired from their bay, aimed at the flank of the Ork Space Hulk, dubbed _Fist of Misery_. The Third Cohort would establish a beachhead and then converge on the most likely position of the Ork command centre, linking with the Luna Wolves assault companies along the way. Still, it was only an educated guess based on all the available data. By its very nature, a Space Hulk was nearly impossible to categorize due to the fact that it was a conglomeration of derelict vessels.

The boarding torpedo quaked, and Brother Arames reported "Encountering point defense fire."

"Change our heading fourteen degrees."

"Altering course" he replied as he worked the torpedo's controls. There was the slightest feeling of shifting, but the Astartes hardly felt it. To him and most of his brothers, micro-gravity and the various dangers inherent in space travel were no more a concern than breathing properly.

A few minutes later, the torpedo struck the hull of the Space Hulk, boring through metres of plating as it penetrated the massive vessel. After several seconds of violent shaking, they came to rest, and Daxus ordered "Open hatch." The tip of the torpedo opened before them, and the darkened space was flooded with light from outside. Their auto-senses correcting for the sudden shift, they stepped outside.

The chamber they were in appeared to be some sort of crude galley, with loaded tables of raw meat and metallic skull symbols bolted over the walls. There were also a few score Orks present, many of which had just been eating.

There was a moment of silence, with neither side making a move, until the largest Ork in sight raised its arm in the air and shouted "Get 'em, boyz!"

Daxus aimed at the Greenskin and fired. His Graviton Gun gave off a bass rumble as it fired a stream of Graviton particles at its target. The Third Captain kept squeezing the trigger, maintaining the stream as it significantly increased the gravity around the Ork. The xenos started groaning in pain as it was slowly forced to the floor, and that quickly turned into wails of agony as its entire body was crushed as if by a giant, invisible fist.

Armour crumpled under the pressure, bones cracked and shattered, yellow blood burst from eyes, nose, and ears, and finally it was reduced to a bloody smear within a distorted ball of metal.

The other Orks, seeing this horrific death, were momentarily stunned. Daxus' command squad took advantage of this opening, unleashing Flamer and Bolter fire on the xenos.

All the while, Brother Kellen held the Legion Standard high as their enemies perished.

A nearby Ork, wielding a pair of long, sharp blades, wailed a savage war cry and charged at the Third Captain. He responded by altering the setting on his Graviton Gun. This time, when he fired, the stream greatly lightened the gravity around the creature. When it leapt at him, no doubt intending to run him through, it was launched into the air overhead, flailing about as it crashed into a wall. It was swiftly dispatched.

With the immediate vicinity clear, Daxus tapped into the Third Cohort's Vox network. "This is Captain Monokar. Report."

He received a steady stream of signals from the Maniple Tribunes and Company Alphas. Three Companies had been mauled by Orks, but the majority of the Third Cohort was still battle-ready. Their numbers would quickly diminish, but every Astartes of the II Legion understood their duty; they did not fight for such petty concerns as glory or vengeance, but to carry out the Emperor's will.

"Carry out your objectives, brothers. First Maniple will converge on my signal. Second and Third Maniples, take the Hulk's starboard quadrants. Fourth and Fifth, take the stern. We must plant the charges at the most critical weak points. If any of you encounter Luna Wolves, you are to aid them in any capacity. Emperor guide you."

With that, Daxus and his command squad made their way out of the Ork galley.

The part of the Space Hulk they were in consisted of corridors and chambers covered in images of battle and blood, with metal skull symbols bolted on nearly every surface. The number of Orks they encountered kept growing at an exponential rate, and they would be overwhelmed before long.

The rest of the First Maniple soon joined them, and that helped as they progressed through the never-ending maze.

Daxus used his Graviton Gun to great effect, crushing various Orks. He also employed it strategically, using higher than average gravity fields to pin specific xenos in place, giving his brothers an opportunity to eliminate them with a clean Bolter shot. The II Legion had enjoyed technological superiority over many foes since the Great Crusade had been called, but it had only been under the command of their Primarch that they easily surpassed most xenos species. His scientific brilliance and preternatural organizational abilities allowed the brothers of the Knowledge Hunters to employ the most advanced weapons known to Mankind.

Soon enough, the Third Captain led the First Maniple to a nearby energy source. The plan was for the Third Cohort to spread out through the Space Hulk and strategically plant charges so as to destroy the Ork vessel, thus eliminating their command structure. The desired result was for the fleet to fragment, creating smaller groups that the Astartes vessels could manage.

The corridor they occupied led to another, but that one was slanted at a thirty degree angle, meaning that they were at the joining point of two different vessels.

Approaching the door, Daxus ordered "Pericas, Hydast, clear a path."

The two Astartes nodded, hefting their Flamers as they entered the room ahead. A harsh chorus of Ork voices sounded a half second before they were drowned out by gouts of Promethium. Daxus ordered a heavy weapons squad through to lay down suppressing fire, following with his command squad a moment later.

The Orks closest to them were being incinerated, their foul xenos flesh melting like wax, while those further away were being eviscerated by Bolt shells. The roar of Heavy Bolters overwhelmed all other sound, but the Astartes' helmets and auto-senses accommodated.

The chamber they had entered was approximately thirty metres long. It was dominated by a bloated power reactor that visibly shook as it discharged the occasional bolt of yellow energy. This was an ideal point for the first charge, and Daxus set himself and his brothers to task clearing the space of Orks. With well-coordinated tactics and superior armaments, the First Cohort cleansed their foes.

Daxus clipped his weapon to his belt. He then took a proffered Melta Bomb which he latched onto the side of the reactor as three more were placed along its surface.

Just as they finished, a brother from the Fifth Company reported "Auspex scans show Astartes engaging Orks two levels below us. Vox communications reveal Luna Wolves involvement."

The Third Captain nodded. "Third Cohort, this is Captain Monokar. Maniple Tribunes, report."

The Second and Third Maniples had accomplished their objectives, as the starboard side of the Space Hulk had been thinned of Ork numbers by Astartes of the XVI Legion. The Fourth and Fifth were encountering stiff resistance, and had not reached their assigned targets.

"Very well" Daxus said. "Second and Third Maniples, move to assist. We must have all charges placed. I will press on with the First Maniple and link up with elements of the XVI." With that, he and the men left the reactor room behind as they rushed down two levels.

When they arrived, they were greeted by the sight of countless Ork corpses lining the floor. After rounding a corner, they witnessed black-armoured Astartes finishing the largest creatures of this group.

Soon enough, only one xenos remained. It was a brute, garbed in spiked armour and wielding a vicious hammer fashioned from scrap metal. It growled before swinging the hammer at one of the Luna Wolves. Though the beast blocked his view, Daxus could see an extremely tall topknot waving back and forth as the Astartes fought the elite xenos. Suddenly, a hand caught the haft of the hammer, and the tip of a Power Sword pierced through its back. The Ork gave a gurgled cry of pain and surprise, and was summarily cut in half.

As the two halves collapsed onto the floor, joining the other corpses, the Luna Wolves warrior was revealed. He was a giant, even for an Astartes, towering over the rest of them. The only man capable of matching him in size was Andion Videlis, the Praetorian Prefect who stood at Lord Caesarius' side. This man's armour was coloured black, and it was stained with yellow blood. Its owner wore no helmet, revealing a face with a pair of wide eyes and a straight nose. His expression was savage, teeth bared in a sneer.

"And who might you be?" he asked, his voice a growl.

"Daxus Monokar, Third Captain, Knowledge Hunters."

"First Captain Abaddon, of the Luna Wolves" the massive warrior replied. "I assume you've made yourselves useful by targeting this vessel's reactors?"

"We have" Daxus replied.

"Well, we believe the Warboss is nearby. Try to keep up."

First Captain Abaddon wasted no time in moving, and Daxus motioned for his Astartes to follow as the members of both Legions moved towards the Warboss directing the Ork fleet.

* * *

Samos checked his Meltagun as he stood in the hold of the Stormbird transport. As a Company Alpha, he led 100 Battle-Brothers into the fiery teeth of war, all of whom were with him in the transport. First Captain Solorax had ordered him and his men to travel into the Confederation capital in order to eliminate xenos hostiles within the city limits.

" _We have arrived_ " the Stormbird's pilot communicated through the intercom.

"Set us down" Samos ordered. A minute later, the hold shook as the Stormbird landed. "Lower hatch." The entrance hatch opened with a _hiss_ of steam, lowering until it touched the ground. Samos and his brothers were given a view of the Confederation capital, and he privately admitted that it was a most impressive sight.

The people of Mytos had endured the chaos of the Old Night extremely well. Great, gleaming spires speared the very heavens, transports crisscrossed the airways with anti-gravity technology, and wide streets cut pathways between buildings. The sky was overcast with a shimmering blue energy shield, which was by all accounts much stronger than many Imperial versions. One example of the technological benefits the Confederation offered.

Samos walked down the ramp and onto the street they had landed on, the boots of his Mark II Power Armour thudding with every step. His brothers following close behind, the Company Alpha looked to his left. A large crowd had gathered to witness their arrival, and men and women garbed in multi-hued uniforms and fine dresses stared in awe. Perhaps, Samos hoped, the awe-inspiring presence of the Astartes would help sway these people to join the Imperium.

Pushing that thought to the back of his mind, he focused on the task at hand: the squat, round structure that served as the housing for the capital's protective energy shield reactor.

"Move up" he ordered. With his Meltagun in hand, he led his company forward.

There were several corpses of Confederation soldiers lining the building's entrance. An Apothecary knelt beside one of the fallen, examining a large hole that had been blasted into the man's chest. "Cauterization of these tissues suggest they were struck by some manner of energy weapon" he concluded.

"So these xenos are advanced. Third and Eighth Squads, maintain—"

He was cut off by a loud _crack_ from afar. A beam of light lanced through the air and struck the Apothecary in the eye-socket of his helmet, killing him instantly.

Samos and his brothers reacted instantly, looking up in an effort to discern the enemy's position. The Alpha saw movement along the top of the building, and he zoomed in with his bionic eyes. Several figures were crouched along the edge of the roof, aiming with long rifles of unknown design. "Targets identified" he said, extending his Bolter Mechadendrite and firing using the targeting data he had just acquired.

Several more bolts of light were fired from above, striking various Battle-Brothers and killing a small handful. Samos surmised that there were only ten of the xenos, and the most likely possibility was that they were meant to hold off any pursuing force whilst others sabotaged the main reactor.

"We must push forward!" he barked through the company's Vox channel. "Second and Eighth Squads, eliminate these xenos. The rest of you, with me. We must prevent the shield from collapsing!"

With that, he and most of the company charged forward amid sniper fire. In his peripheral vision, he saw a pair of Battle-Brothers struck and killed, but the rest made it inside the structure. The various squads spread throughout in an effort to envelop the saboteurs, and Samos led the First Squad as they went directly for the reactor's main control room.

A pair of thin xenos garbed in canary yellow armour with mauve jackets emerged from a nearby hallway and started firing ammunition capable of shredding Astartes armour, as Brother Lycaeus was killed by a sustained burst.

Samos took aim with his Meltagun and squeezed the trigger. A beam of super-hot energy fired from the barrel, vaporizing the upper half of one hostile and leaving a pair of lifeless legs.

Brother Kardos brought his Chainsword to bear, carving the other one into bloody chunks.

With that, they pressed forward, entering the control room.

The reactor itself, a gargantuan object that thrummed with power, was visible through a view screen. The control room was occupied by a half dozen of the thin xenos. One of them had its hood pulled back, revealing a mostly bald head with some silver hair pulled back into a ponytail. His long fingers frenziedly worked at the controls, even as Samos and his squad opened fire on its comrades.

Careful not to strike the glass, and possibly damage the reactor, Samos killed one of the hostiles with his Meltagun. He then charged forward, shrugging off weapon strikes and ignoring the pain of his injuries.

The xenos leader, upon noticing them, drew a foreign-looking pistol and shot at him. However, the Company Alpha struck him in the face with his Meltagun. With his finely tuned auto-senses, he could hear the crack as bones were surely broken, and the xenos fell to the floor. Soon enough, the control room was cleared.

"Control room secure" Samos reported through the Vox. "All squads, make a final sweep of the structure and ensure no more xenos remain."

"You think you have won some… great victory?" the xenos leader asked.

Samos looked down at it, seeing its bloodied, catlike features. "Your mission has failed. Your pathetic race has been crushed by the might of the Emperor and His Astartes."

The leader chuckled. He coughed up bright red blood, then said "We were once masters of this galaxy, _Mon-keigh_. Our empire was ancient and supreme. You speak as we once did, full of surety and arrogance. But all our efforts amounted to nothing, and now we are a vagabond people. Your empire will fall, one day, just as ours did. My only regret is that I will not be there to see it."

Without a word, Samos crushed its head with his boot.

* * *

Kaius joined his Astartes as they carved through the Ork ranks. Green hides were vaporized with Plasma rounds and Melta beams, perforated with Bolt shells, and lacerated with all manner of knives, Chainswords, and Power Swords.

The purpose of Darius fashioning a strong defensive line in front of the capital city was to present a tempting target for the Orks. As expected, the xenos had thrown themselves against it with reckless abandon. By now, the savage brutes that served as leaders among the Ork kind would be present, and the Astartes of the II Legion were making the push to cut off the invasion at the head.

They were joined by Kaius and his Praetores as well as the Knights of House Aurelius.

The Primarch moved forward at a brisk pace behind the western force of the Second Cohort, flanked by the remaining Praetores. The fields in front of the city were covered by a seemingly endless wave of green, and they were joined by great, hulking war machines that were roughly analogous to Imperial Titans. They lumbered forward with large, blocky feet, their main bodies covered in thick, haphazardly welded armour plates and each possessed large, unwieldy weapons.

The chieftain leading this invasion was clearly mechanically inclined, at least as much as an Ork could manage. Kaius considered it his sacred duty as an adept of the Mechanicum to slaughter every one of these xenos and demolish their blasphemous constructs.

"Continue to advance" he said through the Vox-implant that had replaced his right ear. "We cannot afford to lose momentum."

The Astartes in front of him held their diamond formation, spraying endless barrages into the Orks. A yellow mist preceded them as one of the knights stomped a pair of Orks into paste while another blasted several more with its Battle Cannon.

A large and well-armoured beast came from behind, roaring as it charged at Kaius. The Praetores pressed together into a tight clump around their Primarch.

Andion stepped forward, nearly matching his foe in size. He swung his suitably large Thunder Hammer, and it cracked with stored energy as it shattered one of the Ork's legs. It wailed in agony, collapsing into the blood-stained dirt, and Andion brought his hammer down, crushing its head.

A second large Ork came at Kaius, and the Lord of the II Legion responded by extending his armour's built-in Electro-Flail. He struck the xenos with the lashes from his left vambrace, and the Power Field was strong enough to throw it back amongst its brethren.

Turning around, Kaius looked at one of the massive war engines. He zoomed in with his bionic eye, and saw that it was more ornate than the others. An Ork with major cybernetic modification stood atop the lumbering behemoth, directing the green horde.

"There" Kaius said. "The Ork leader commands from the top of that construct."

They continued to advance, until a blasphemous Ork machine emerged from within the shadow of one of the Titan analogues.

It was approximately the same size as Kaius, which was nearly twice as tall as his Astartes. It sported half a dozen weaponized limbs, and its main body featured a grinning skull that seemed ubiquitous in Ork culture. A pair of smoke stacks belched black fumes, and Kaius could detect the creak of its crude servo-motors.

"Oi! Check me fancy kan! I'm gonna chop you inta tiny bits and feed 'em to me Squigs!"

As the advance continued, the war machine drove forward. It cut an Astartes in half with a blade limb while simultaneously burning another with a Flamer and shooting another with a primitive projectile weapon. Kaius lunged at the poor facsimile of a Dreadnought with his Drill Mechadendrite, driving into the metal plating. The blade limb aimed a slice at his exposed face, but he caught it with his Claw Mechadendrite, keeping it at bay.

A furious melee of mechanical limbs ensued, with both combatants evenly matched by all appearances. But Kaius was no mere mortal; he was a Primarch, the genetically engineered son of the Emperor of Mankind, the Omnissiah. He bore the strength of the sacred god-engines, the knowledge of the ages, and the wisdom necessary to conquer the galaxy.

With his claw, he crushed his enemy's Flamer limb. With his drill, he bored a hole into one of its legs, spilling oil and hydraulic fluid. The Ork machine was crippled, and in such a weakened state, it was helpless as Kaius blasted it with both of his Plasma Mechadendrites.

"My lord!" Second Captain Torghar exclaimed, pointing up at the sky.

Kaius looked up and saw countless hundreds of fiery streaks. He zoomed in with his bionic eye, and he could see that they were caused by Drop Pods. They bore the storm-grey colours of the Space Wolves.

Like a furious meteor storm, the Drop Pods slammed into the Ork ranks, depositing thousands of VI Legion Astartes and dozens of the massive wolves that served as their namesake. The sons of Leman Russ savagely tore into the Orks with Chainswords and Lightning Claws, matching xenos fury with their own. Kaius quickly calculated that the odds of defeating the invasion increased exponentially.

In the midst of the slaughter, another Drop Pod joined the continuous waves. It was larger than the others, and it slammed into an Ork war machine, pulverizing it.

The doors blasted open, and Leman Russ himself emerged, bisecting an Ork.

"Kaius!" he called, laughing as he cut through enemies. "It seems you and your scientists needed our help to wage a proper fight!"

The Lord of the II Legion maintained a neutral expression. "Numerically, it was prudent to request assistance. There is no need to wastefully expend resources for the sake of personal glory."

Russ snorted.

"Where is Horus?"

"He decided to remain in orbit, to direct the fleet battle. That leaves the Warboss for the two of us." He looked up at the top of the ornate Titan analogue, then said "Care to see which of us reaches the beast first?"

Kaius privately wondered if his brother understood the irony of calling another a 'beast'. "No matter our actions, these Orks will fall."

"Hah! So they shall!"

Kaius fired his Plasma Mechadendrites, blasting a large hole in the engine's hull. With that, Russ, along with several of his elite Space Wolves, charged into the breach. They howled like animals, which quickly intermingled with the death screams of Orks and the roar of weapons fire. Kaius turned to Torghar and Andion. "Continue to exterminate the Orks. Once the Warboss is dead, they will become disorganized and easily routed."

"Yes, my lord."

"Yes, my lord."

The Lord of the II Legion proceeded to latch onto the war engine's hull with both hands as well as his Claw and Drill Mechadendrites. He used those four limbs to climb up the side of the obscene construct in arachnoid fashion, quickly and efficiently scaling it. The hydraulic pistons of his extra limbs whirred as they obeyed his mental commands.

By the time he reached the top, Russ was already engaging the Warboss. The Ork was gargantuan compared to the rest of its kind. From what Kaius had deduced through extensive dissections and examinations, he knew that a quirk of their physiology resulted in individuals growing in size and strength after winning battles and rising in rank. This Warboss must have defeated a legion of foes, as it dwarfed even the two Primarchs in sheer size and muscle mass. A crudely built exoskeleton was fused onto its grotesque body, with numerous electrodes fizzling with energy. The beast's lower jaw was fitted with a cybernetic replacement, and instead of hands, it bore a large spinning saw and some manner of directed energy weapon.

Russ growled as he slashed with his Frost Blade, Krakenmaw, carving deep gouges in the Warboss' armour and green hide. Its sheer size, however, likely meant that the wounds were superficial. For its park, the Ork matched the Wolf King's ferocity, bellowing a keen war-cry each time it lashed out with the spinning saw.

Kaius grabbed a small green creature with his Claw Mechadendrite, crushing it into yellow paste. He then killed a multitude of the chattering xenos.

Russ ducked a slash from the saw, then drove his Frost Blade into the Ork's midsection.

It grunted, but appeared no less weakened then before. It aimed its other weapon at the Primarch, which glowed and crackled with energy. Russ found himself pulled to it, and Kaius understood that it was a weaponized magnet that attracted his brother's armour. With his opponent firmly in his grasp, the Warboss proceeded to slam him onto the floor.

The beast looked up at Kaius, almost grinning with its armour-plated tusks. "Well lookie 'ere, boys! It's gonna be a two Primark day it is! Say, dat's some fancy kit ya got dere. I fink I's gonna take it from ya!"

"You shall do no such thing, Ork" Kaius replied, his filtered voice lacking fear. "You are nothing before the might of the Imperium of Man."

"You ain't got nothing on me!" the Warboss bellowed. "I's built all dese shiny toys to get more loot, and I's gonna get more loot! You won't be able ta stand up to Warboss Battlekleava, not when me twin's up dere in space wrekkin yer ships. We's like Mork and Gork, but better lookin. You gonna die now! WAAAGH!"

The Warboss charged, and Kaius managed to fire his Plasma Mechadendrites, boiling away several layers of its skin and melting battle armour. The Ork was not defeated, however, and continued to charge.

Kaius leaped to the side just in time to avoid being thrown from the top of the war engine. All around them, the battle raged, but this was the deciding factor.

Kill the Warboss, destabilize the invasion.

The Lord of the II Legion gripped the Ork's magnet arm with his claw, simultaneously driving his drill into the actuators. The drill roared as it carved through wires and metal, while the pistons hissed as Kaius forced it to add further pressure. Just as the Warboss started to turn, roaring in anger and pain due to its face being mostly melted, Russ belted a Fenrisian war-cry as he leaped at the creature. With a mighty swing of his Frost Blade, he severed the saw arm just as Kaius finished ripping and drilling the magnet arm free.

The Wolf King then drove his blade into the Warboss' back, while Kaius drove his drill into its side. It gave furious gurgling growls as torrents of yellow blood poured from its various wounds.

The beast still did not die, however, and it whirled around, blinded by a white-hot rage.

Kaius grabbed Russ with his Claw Mechadendrite and pulled him back just as the Warboss tried to bite him. He then charged his Plasma Mechadendrites and fired, blasting the Warboss off the top of the war engine. Its broken, burnt, and bloodied corpse plummeted, and Kaius was certain that every Ork in the horde could see the death of their leader.

"Stormbird Beta-7, move for extraction at these coordinates" he said through his Vox implant.

" _Acknowledged_."

After ordering his Space Wolves to clear out of the construct they stood upon, Russ walked over to the edge, peering down at the spot where the Warboss had landed. "Now I just need to get down there to reclaim Krakenmaw."

As the Stormbird, painted in the silver and rust of the II Legion, came to circle above them, Kaius said "There is no time for that. We must evacuate this construct."

"To hell with that! I'm not leaving until I have my sword in hand, slick with Ork blood!"

The Stormbird hovered beside them, and Kaius knew that the Wolf King would not go willingly. The destruction of the lead construct was the centrepiece of his plan, and it could not be delayed. Kaius, using his two arms and Claw Mechadendrite, proceeded to shove Russ onto the transport. "Take off."

"Kaius, take me down there now!" Russ shouted.

Ignoring him, Kaius Voxed one of the Titans of Legio Lex. " _Virtus Aeterna_ , destroy the lead Ork construct with the blessings of the Omnissiah."

" _Understood_ " the Princeps replied, his voice tight and strained from the sheer physical and mental effort required to operate a Titan god-engine. Flying above the battlefield, the two Primarchs could see the Warlord-Class Titan approaching its counterpart, crushing Orks underfoot. It then fired its Plasma Blastgun, which tore open a vast chunk of armour plating. The Titan followed up by firing its Quake Cannon, which blasted the construct into oblivion.

"I won't forget this" Russ growled in Kaius' organic ear.

* * *

Daxus Monokar marveled at the sheer ferocity displayed by First Captain Abaddon. The Luna Wolves' commander was a giant, even for an Astartes, and he used his prodigious strength and supremely bellicose nature to great effect. None of the Orks could withstand him and his blade, and with him leading the Luna Wolves strike force, they would eliminate the Warboss in due time.

The Third Captain now understood why Lord Lupercal employed such an unstoppable warrior as his First Captain. It was logical, given the preferred spearhead tactics of the XVI Legion, and it was beneficial for a Primarch to have such a deadly warrior leading the charge.

For his part, Daxus focused his efforts on fire support. He and his Astartes engaged in melee combat when the need arose, such as during a ship-to-ship boarding action, but on the whole they preferred to use overwhelming firepower. The warriors of the Third Cohort blasted Orks into paste with Bolters or burned them with Flamers.

"Push forward!" Abaddon bellowed. "These Greenskins will fall to us this day!"

"Tenth squad, apply suppressing fire down that corridor!" Daxus ordered. The Battle-Brothers of tenth squad moved into position, unleashing torrents of Heavy Bolter fire and precise Lascannon shots on a group of Orks.

A voice came through on his Vox. " _Third Captain, this is Tribune Aloisius. We have placed charges on our designated targets_."

"Understood. Begin falling back to the _Immortal Comprehension_ , brothers."

With this intersection cleared, Daxus and First Captain Abaddon led their men into what must have been the Space Hulk's command centre. Rows of screens displayed tactical and ship data, while a number of Orks were present. Some were small and skittered about in the midst of menial work, while most were far larger than the rest, armoured in sharp, bright red armour and wielding vicious hammers and Chainswords. In the very centre of the room was the largest Ork Daxus had ever seen. The beast stood a full head taller than the other xenos, and the Third Captain estimated it to be the same size as a Dreadnought. Another Ork, wearing a pair of goggles, tightened a bolt on its exoskeleton.

Without a word, First Captain Abaddon and his elite Luna Wolves charged forward, lunging at the massive Orks with a fury only they could muster. If the xenos were taken by surprise, then they recovered quickly, as they bellowed savage war-cries before entering the fray.

Daxus aimed his Graviton Gun at a nearby Ork warrior, using the weapon's beam to crush his target.

The Warboss, having crushed a Luna Wolf with its massive Power Klaw, looked in his direction upon hearing the Graviton Gun's bass rumble. "You dere! I'll have dat fancy kit! Warboss Mega Defroar always gets da best toys! WAAAGH!" The beast charged, knocking Astartes and Ork aside. The Third Captain dialed his weapon to the highest setting and fired. The air around them vibrated as the beam struck, and the Warboss suddenly stopped. It growled fiercely as the gravity around it grew heavier and heavier, but it somehow managed to keep moving, albeit extremely slowly.

Several of his fellow Knowledge Hunters took the opportunity to shoot it with Heavy Bolters and Flamers, but that only seemed to spur it on further. With its armour denting from the pressure and green skin melted and shot, Mega Defroar thundered a bestial roar as it swung its enormous Power Klaw.

Daxus was struck square in the chest, and he could feel his armour crumpling and torso flaring with pain as he was thrown against a wall. He smashed into a screen, grunting as his post-human body began to recover from the injury.

Unfortunately, he did not have enough time.

The Warboss suddenly appeared before him, bringing its Power Klaw down. Daxus leaped out of the way before he could be smashed, but he found himself pinned to the wall by an inferior model of Chainsword, one designed to fit the massive hand of an Ork chieftain. The Third Captain felt the weapon's teeth chewing through his armour and the flesh of his shoulder. He cried out in agony as the bone was sawed through, and his weapon arm plopped onto the floor, Graviton Gun still in hand.

"I's be havin that, ya silver git!"

"You shall have nothing, xenos filth." With his remaining hand, Daxus drew his combat knife and drove it into the Warboss' eye. Yellow blood and ocular fluid poured from the wound as the Ork growled in pain. The respite he bought himself lasted only a moment, as Mega Defroar clamped its Power Klaw on Daxus' legs. Servos whirred as the Third Captain's legs were crushed, eliciting a fresh cry of agony.

The attack ended as the Warboss jerked back, its right arm severed at the elbow. First Captain Abaddon appeared, his face twisted into a savage sneer as he swung at the Warboss with his Power Sword.

The last image Daxus saw was the First Captain and the Warboss locking swords as he collapsed onto the floor, broken and bloodied.

* * *

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	15. Quest for Knowledge

Warboss Mega Defroar was ultimately slain by Ezekyle Abaddon of the Luna Wolves. With their mission complete, the Knowledge Hunters of the Third Cohort carried their broken Captain back to his Battle Barge. Once all Astartes were clear of the Space Hulk, the Melta Charges were detonated, creating a chain reaction which shattered the hideous amalgam. With their command ship destroyed, the Ork armada fell to infighting, and the three Imperial fleets easily mopped up the smaller groups.

On the surface of Mytos, Warboss Battlekleava's demise proved to be the tipping point. Several Ork chieftains claimed leadership of the horde, and a bloody struggle soon erupted. Combined with the furious assault of the Knowledge Hunters, supported by their Titans and the Space Wolves, every single Ork on Mytos was butchered, thus saving the Confederation capital. The two Legions' Primarchs did not speak to one another until Horus met with them after the battle's completion.

With the death of the twin Warbosses and the complete annihilation of their armies around or on the capital world, the II, VI, and XVI Legions set themselves to task. Every last xenos was hunted down and their vessels were destroyed.

The worlds of the Confederation swore allegiance to the Imperium that day.

* * *

Kaius strode through the corridors of the _Quest for Knowledge_ , flanked as always by Andion and the Praetores Venerabilia. He was garbed in a sleeveless, rust-coloured robe that flowed behind him as he walked. The thick, metallic taste of sacred oils wafted through the air, and Kaius could sense the pleasure of the Machine Spirits all around them.

A Rune Priest and his accompanying Servitor crossed an intersecting corridor ahead. He bowed in respect to Kaius before moving on.

The Battleship's prow was devoted to scientific study, and as such was mostly occupied by every kind of laboratory devoted to biological and mechanical pursuits. As the Primarch passed a doorway, he saw a Magos Xenologis overseeing the dissections of several corpses belonging to the second xenos threat he and his Legion had encountered. The thin, naked corpses were cut open by Servitors, their organs removed and placed in containers of embalming fluid for later study.

Kaius absorbed this information in the point-two seconds he viewed the scene.

In another chamber, a half dozen of the xenos, these ones still living, were each strapped to a neuro-reactive apparatus. A Magos Biologis Neuralis, aided by an Apothecary of the Knowledge Hunters, oversaw several Servitors and Tech Priest adepts who worked at the controls. At the Magos' command, the xenos were subjected to intense surges of pain through the neural connectors. Their lithe bodies tensed as their thin lips twisted into agonized snarls. Scans of their brain functions were displayed on a wall screen, and even a quick glance told Kaius that these xenos' synaptic pathways were many times more complex than those of Mankind, and their neurons fired three times as fast.

Eventually, Kaius arrived at his destination. Turning to Andion, he said "Wait here."

"Yes, my lord" the large Astartes replied with a deep, filtered voice that would most likely intimidate lesser beings.

The Lord of the II Legion walked to the end of the corridor, passing through the doorway into another laboratory. The Psyker who had led the xenos was strapped to a neuro-reactive apparatus, stripped of his elegant armour and weapons. Magos Biologis Benedold used his Mechadendrites to work the controls of the apparatus, while Artisan Markovius stood off to the side, next to a table where all of the Psyker's effects laid.

"Have you made any progress?" Kaius asked, reverting to Lingua Technis among his fellow Tech adepts.

"A few, my lord" Benedold replied, his multi-faceted eyes reflecting Kaius' face a hundred times over. "I have kept the subject sedated so as to dampen its psionic abilities."

As if sensing that he was being discussed, the Psyker rolled his head back and said "You animals think…you…can…keep me in…bondage? I am so far beyond…your…pitiful, primate minds."

Kaius took a step towards the xenos, examining it with his bionic eye. "It is remarkably resilient, despite its apparent frailty."

"Indeed" Benedold agreed. "It would seem they possess extremely efficient motor control and weight to muscle ratio."

"My lord, look at this" Markovius said.

Kaius turned and joined his oldest subordinate. The Artisan was examining the xenos' pistol, holding it with a Mechadendrite. The weapon was elegant, with a gleaming finish and a curved handle.

"From what you and your Astartes described, these xenos employ energy weapons in combat. However, I have determined that this weapon, and others taken from the battlefield, are not energy weapons. I detect no power cell of any kind, nor any sort of mechanism that would convert gas pockets into ionized plasma." To demonstrate his point, Markovius aimed the pistol at the half-shell of a dead Servitor and fired. It discharged glowing rounds into the metal, puncturing and driving deep into it.

Kaius walked over to the shell and ran his metallic fingers over the thin puncture marks. "Fascinating. They must propel razor-sharp discs as projectiles."

"You…flail in the…dark, _Mon-keigh_ " the Psyker said.

Ignoring it, Kaius walked back to the table and looked over its belongings. Beside the pistol was a finely wrought blade inscribed with alien glyphs, a suit of yellow armour with various runes upon it and a yellow cloak, and…

Looking back at the armour, Kaius examined it more closely. There was a bright blue gem inlaid in the chest piece, and its prominence suggested that the xenos valued it greatly. As delicately as he could, he used his Claw Mechadendrite to grip the gem and pull it loose. He held it close, observing how its ocean-blue surface reflected the lights of the laboratory. He could hear the Psyker beginning to thrash against his restraints, and a rapid beeping from the apparatus preceded Magos Benedold saying "My lord, the subject is starting to fully regain consciousness!"

Kaius turned, and the Psyker had evidently overcome the sedatives. It thrashed like a raging animal, growling as it tried in vain to free itself. "Take your filthy hands off that, primate! I will tear you apart with a thought! Release me! You will suffer for this! Give it back!"

With his bionic eye, Kaius could see a rapid rise in its body temperature. Its skin began to glow faintly, and he calculated a sixty four-point-three chance that it would use its psionic abilities to escape, and that probability was rapidly climbing.

He silently called Andion through his Vox implant.

The Psyker continued to struggle, and its right hand glowed red-hot, like a metal rod in a forge. The restraint on its right wrist melted like wax, and the right arm was freed. Just as the xenos held its hand at Kaius in what must have been the beginnings of an offensive spell, it suddenly tensed, straining against its restraints as its free hand clutched its chest.

Kaius turned and saw Andion approaching. The Praetores Prefect came to the doorway, and the Primarch held a hand, stopping him.

Kaius stepped in front of the Psyker and held the blue gem before him, just out of reach. "This clearly has emotional value for you" he said in Low Gothic. "You would not struggle so much if it were a mere bauble. Tell me what this means to you."

The xenos glared at him, defiantly silent.

Kaius gave a single command in Lingua Technis, and Andion took a step forward. The Psyker grunted, its pain clearly intensifying. With another command, Andion took two steps forward, and the Psyker could not contain a wail of pure agony. Kaius held the gem before it, maintaining eye contact. "Tell me what I wish to know. I do not know the pain threshold for your species, but I am curious to discover what it is, and I have several test subjects who are not as valuable as you are. Progress often requires…sacrifice."

Its tortured wails echoed through the corridors, likely reaching the ears of its comrades.

An hour later, Kaius gently placed the gem back on the table. The xenos had finally succumbed to the effects of Andion's presence, and had returned to a catatonic state. Fortunately, it had divulged a great deal, and the Primarch was very eager to explore the new paths of discovery this knowledge would lead him.

A transmission came through his Vox implant. " _My lord, this is Admiral Konstantius. Lord Lupercal requests your presence aboard the_ Vengeful Spirit."

"Very well, Admiral. Inform him that I am on my way."

"My lord, what should be done with the subject?" Magos Benedold asked in Lingua Technis.

"It represents too great a security risk. Remove its brain for further study, and preserve the body. Have it transferred to my sanctum."

"Of course. Omnissiah be praised."

"Omnissiah be praised" Kaius echoed. With that, he walked out of the laboratory, Andion and the Praetores Venerabilia falling in step beside him. Leaving the prow section behind, the Primarch made his way to one of the port side hangar bays. Teams of Tech Priests and their accompanying Servitors repaired and maintained countless aircraft in the wake of the battle, and a squad of Astartes disembarked from a Stormbird nearby.

Kaius and his escort proceeded to board the transport, and he told the pilot "Take us to the _Vengeful Spirit_."

" _Yes, my lord_."

The boarding ramp was closed, and the ship vibrated as the engines were engaged. The trip to Horus' flagship lasted exactly eighteen-point-nine minutes; judging by the travel time, Kaius estimated that the _Vengeful Spirit_ was maintaining orbit directly over Mytos' second continent, northeast of the equator.

The ramp lowered, and Kaius disembarked, Andion and his squad close by. Ezekyle Abaddon, First Captain of the Luna Wolves, was there to greet him, flanked by a squad of the elite Justaerin Company.

"Lord Caesarius" the First Captain greeted, inclining his head.

"Captain Abaddon."

Horus' favoured officer took a moment to glance at Andion. At a quick glance, Kaius could tell that the two Astartes were roughly the same size. Andion's bionic enhancements increased his overall profile and bulk, but in terms of organic physiology, they were equal. The other Luna Wolves with Abaddon shifted where they stood. The motions were miniscule, almost too subtle to see, but Kaius' superior vision told him that they felt uncomfortable.

As they would be naturally familiar with Abaddon's size and strength, their discomfort must have come from new stimuli. Kaius glanced at the Praetores Prefect, pondering the implications. The xenos Psyker had violently reacted to his presence, to the point where close proximity induced catatonia. If Andion possessed some natural, hostile trait to Psykers, then was it possible that it affected non-Psykers, as well?

It was certainly an idea worth exploring.

"I'm here to escort you to my lord's quarters" the First Captain explained. With another glance at Andion, he turned on his heel and began to lead Kaius out of the hangar. The walk through the formidable battleship was mostly silent, but after seven minutes, Abaddon said "Your Third Captain, Monokar. Did he survive?"

"His injuries were extensive. He has been interred within a Dreadnought."

Abaddon nodded. "Then he has more chances to fight. Good. Who will take his place in command of the Third Cohort?"

"No one. He will resume his post once the transition is complete."

The First Captain was silent, his surprise only partially hidden.

"We believe that the flesh can be elevated through bionic enhancement" Kaius replied to the question on the Astartes' mind. "Those that infuse themselves with sacred tech honour our Emperor, the Omnissiah. An Astartes who becomes a Dreadnought is a living embodiment of that ideal, and they are to be honoured for their achievement."

"As you say."

Eventually, they reached Horus' quarters, and both squads of Astartes remained in the corridor, standing opposite one another. The door slid open, and Kaius stepped inside.

Horus sat on a couch opposite the door, looking down at reports from the planet's surface. When Kaius entered, he looked up and smiled. "Thank you for coming, brother. Please, have a seat."

Kaius glanced at the empty couch to his brother's left. "I do not require rest" he said, his filtered voice neutral in tone. A snort drew his gaze to Horus' right, where Russ reclined on a couch, one leg propped up on his knee. "I see you managed to recover your weapon."

The Wolf King sneered at him. "No thanks to you. I had to dig my way through half a mile of corpses and wreckage to get it back."

"That seems highly inefficient. Can you not craft another?"

"I've been wielding this Frost Blade since the Allfather gave me command of my Legion. I tore the fangs from a Fenrisian Kraken and tempered it in the forges of my homeworld for five days! It has tasted the blood of Orks and a hundred other species!"

"From what I understand, Fenrisian Krakens are not an extinct species."

"That's not the point, Kaius! This blade has value to me. You should have just let me retrieve it."

Kaius stared into Russ' eyes and said "A weapon can be replaced. A Primarch cannot."

"We have won a great victory this day" Horus said, interposing himself into the argument. "We saved four prosperous human worlds from annihilation at the hands of the Greenskins. We did that by fighting together, as our father intended. We can't afford to bicker like children."

Russ grumbled as he crossed his arms. Kaius stood still.

"Kaius, how does your Legion fare?"

"We suffered eleven-point-three percent casualties, which I consider to be within an acceptable margin considering the size of the Ork horde we faced. The recruits from Mytos' population will restore that amount and increase the size of my forces by six percent."

Horus nodded approvingly.

When the Emperor had given Kaius command over the II Legion, there were extenuating circumstances in regards to recruitment. Normally, a Primarch's homeworld would serve as the source of recruits for his Legion, but since Portentia was a Forge World, there were no possible recruits that fit the necessary criteria for Gene-Seed implantation. Also, according to the Treaty of Olympus Mons, the Adeptus Mechanicus was an independent entity with assured sovereignty over its own worlds. The Emperor had thus cast the Decree of Harshor, granting Kaius the right to recruit new Astartes for the Knowledge Hunters from the populations of the worlds they brought to Imperial Compliance.

"I have finished my study of the second xenos species we encountered" Kaius said.

"They call themselves 'Eldar'" Horus explained. "They used to command an ancient empire, but have since fragmented. They are a manipulative, capricious, and arrogant race of xenos."

"They have proven to be a wealth of information. Their leader was a Psyker, far more powerful than anything humanity has produced. Its interrogation revealed that it had lured the Orks to this system in an effort to destroy both us and the Confederation of Mytos."

"Perhaps it would have been better if the _svikari_ had been obliterated."

Horus was silent for a moment, then said "Our father has declared every human to be a part of the Imperium, brother. To resist Compliance is to die."

"Under normal circumstances, my Legion would have conquered them. However, the presence of the Orks complicated matters. I calculated a ninety seven-point-four percent probability that they would invade. If we had declared war on the Confederation, we would have expended valuable munitions and be caught in a vulnerable position. Besides, it would have taken considerably more time for the people of the Confederation to be made Compliant after conquest. Coming to them in their time of need presented us as their saviours. They now feel indebted to us and the Imperium, and their advanced infrastructure is intact."

"There is little glory in rewarding treachery" Russ quipped. "You should have punished them for denying the Allfather's will!"

"Animals seek glory and recognition. We are Primarchs; ours is to seek the elevation of Mankind. You would do well to remember the difference and not place such emphasis on your primitive values."

The Wolf King growled, baring his fangs as he flipped the table in the centre of the room. "Say that to my face, you Rusted Coward!"

Horus stood and placed himself between them. "Calm down!"

Russ turned in response and stormed out of the room, muttering curses in his native tongue as he shoved past First Captain Abaddon. The doors slid shut once more, and Horus looked at Kaius, a disappointed frown on his face. "You deliberately provoked him."

"I was proving a point."

"And what would that be?"

"We were created for a specific purpose, brother" Kaius replied. "Everything in the universe operates in tandem to ensure functionality, and our father imbued us with that same design. You are Mankind's greatest general. I design and create technology and weapons that will elevate us as the greatest species this galaxy has ever known."

"And Russ?" Horus asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Russ is a savage, a weapon meant to be loosed against the Emperor's enemies. He was raised on a feral world by wolves and then by a culture that valued the acts of war and killing."

"But father didn't have any control over that" Horus said. "We were stolen as infants."

"He is the Omnissiah, Horus. The collection of all knowledge and understanding. Nothing happens that is not according to His design, and I have come to believe that He scattered us around the galaxy so we would acquire diverse knowledge and abilities. He did not tell us because we are expected to discover this for ourselves, and thus be worthy of Him. We are all Primarchs, but," he paused to look at the door, "some of us are more expendable than others."

* * *

Kaius examined his surroundings, scanning the area with his bionic eye. All around him, Astartes of the First Cohort secured the chamber as Stormbirds continually deposited more troops and Tech Priests.

"You have done well, Darius" he told his First Captain.

"Thank you, my lord." He stood next to Kaius, his helmet in the crook of his elbow.

It had been a day since Kaius had conferred with his brothers. In that time, Darius had managed to locate the vessel the 'Eldar' had used to infiltrate the system. The First Captain and his warriors had located a transport hidden among the mountains to the west of the Confederation capital city. Darius had deciphered the alien cogitator systems and traced its flight path to a frigate analogue left dormant in orbit over one of the five dead worlds. There were no crew to speak of, and it appeared that the xenos Psyker and his force had been the only ones aboard.

Artisan Markovius approached, flanked by two Explorators from Krakzon's detachment and a number of lobotomized Servitors. Kaius knew that his old subordinate's legs were gone, long since replaced by a nest of Mechadendrites that sprouted below the waist that were concealed by his rust-coloured robes. They offered unparalleled mobility as well as several defensive weapons in combat.

"My lord" he greeted, the Vox-grill that served as a mouth twinkling with blue light. He spoke in Lingua-Technis, which Kaius had been teaching his Legion. "This vessel is quite the find."

"That it is. Darius, secure every deck. Ensure that our orbit is stable, then await my order. Markovius, let us see what we can discover."

With that, Kaius and Markovius strode forward, surrounded by Andion and the Praetores. They began to probe the Eldar vessel's corridors, attempting to discern where the primary control centres and data cores were located. It was difficult work, as everything around them operated on non-human planes. The geometry of its construction was utterly foreign, the layout appeared to be counter-intuitive, and what cogitator systems they could locate resisted every effort of connection.

However, Kaius' superior intellect guided them through the twisting corridors until they reached what must have been the vessel's bridge. Markovius and the two Explorators set to work, examining what cogitators they could identify. The Servitors stood by the door, unmoving as they awaited their next commands.

Kaius took stock of the bridge, running his metallic hand over the walls. There was a presence running through the systems, a complex set of programs that rivalled, and perhaps surpassed, the Machine Spirits of the Mechanicum. The Primarch had always possessed a powerful influence over Machine Spirits, even those of the fearsome Titan god-engines. They always acquiesced to his desires, recognizing his superiority. This alien intelligence would learn to supplicate itself before him.

Upon locating what he deemed to be an access port, he extended a logic probe from the palm of his artificial hand and inserted it.

A wave of sensation washed over him. He could feel the construction materials, the artificial pathways snaking through the vessel like a circulatory system. Kaius knew he could not control the ship this way, as it was not designed with such operations in mind, but he could force it to activate the ship's functions for him.

The alien programs converged on his intruding consciousness, intending to snuff him out, but they were sorely lacking in ability. Kaius mustered his considerable will and mentally lashed out against them. They reeled back in pain and alarm, and he belatedly heard Markovius saying "… detecting activity in the cogitators."

The programs then attempted to flee, but Kaius reached out and ensnared them. They were bound to his will, and with a thought, he coaxed the xenos vessel to life.

Around them, pale blue lighting illuminated the interior, while screens came to life as the ship systems activated.

"Well done, my lord" Markovius said. "We now have full access."

Kaius Voxed his First Captain and said "Darius, contact Horus. Have him meet me here."

" _Of course, my lord_."

Just then, a high-pitched beeping could be heard. Kaius turned, scanning the bridge using his Vox implant. "There" he said, pointing to a nearby console. He and Markovius walked over to it, and saw that a set of alien glyphs covered the console in an irregular elliptical pattern. One of them was glowing.

"Could it be a self-destruct measure?"

Kaius considered that possibility. He scanned the console with his bionic eye, then said "I detect no connections to explosive devices or overload protocols. This appears to connect to the long-range communications equipment."

"Perhaps the Psyker's superior seeks to make contact."

"That was also my hypothesis" Kaius said. He nodded to Markovius, who summoned a Servitor over to him. The cybernetic servant shuffled over to the Artisan. A vid-screen replaced its chest, and both arms had been removed with connector sockets placed on the shoulders. Markovius interfaced a Mechadendrite into the communications console, while plugging another into one of the shoulder sockets.

"I stand ready."

Kaius nodded, then pressed the glowing rune.

" _Oroseth, report_ " a voice said, its voice high-pitched and imperious. Kaius suspected it was female. " _What is the status of your mission?_ "

Kaius glanced at Markovius, who nodded. The Servitor's chest screen cycled through various star systems as the Artisan attempted to triangulate the origin point for the signal. The Primarch modified the Vox-grill on his throat, modulating the harmonics of his voice until it matched that of the Psyker.

"This is Oroseth" he said, satisfied that he had sufficiently replicated the xenos' voice.

" _How did your mission proceed? Were you discovered?_ "

Kaius glanced at the Servitor, and saw that the trace was beginning to narrow. "The human invaders detected us, but we decapitated their leadership. The foul Orks annihilated them and the local inhabitants."

" _That is a relief_ " the female xenos said. " _The Craftworld is still incapable of flight, but the Farseers predict that we should be able to leave this world within the year. With the success of your mission, we now have the time to complete our repairs_."

The Servitor's screen finally stopped shifting, and it showed a binary star system containing an asteroid belt and a single dead world where the signal originated.

"We will depart with all haste. The Orks still infest this system, but we will slip through their clumsy armada soon enough."

" _Very well, I shall be expecting you. Leirdalag out._ "

With that, the transmission ended, and Markovius unplugged his Mechadendrites. "We have located them, my lord. The binary star system is no more than fifty parsecs away. We should reach them via Warp travel within a week's time."

Kaius nodded in approval.

Just then, he heard footsteps as at least two individuals approached the bridge. The Primarch turned around and saw Horus stepping through the door, accompanied by a Tech Priest that Kaius did not recognize. Judging by her implants, she was a Magos of high station. "Kaius" Horus greeted with a smile. "This is Ocayria, the Mechanicum representative to my Legion."

"My lord Primarch, it is an honour" Ocayria greeted, her Vox-grill making her voice crackle.

"Likewise, Magos" Kaius replied, speaking in Lingua-Technis. The shutters around her bionic eyes widened in surprise. "This is Artisan Cybersmith Markovius, of the Forge World Portentia."

The two priests inclined their heads in respect.

"Horus," Kaius said, reverting to Low Gothic, "we have just finished interfacing with this vessel's cogitators. They have proven to be most fascinating."

"You… have interfaced with foul xenos tech?" Ocayria asked, the horror evident in her simulated voice.

Kaius and Markovius exchanged a glance, and the latter said "We have taken the proper precautions."

"This vessel and its systems are an abomination! They are an affront to the Machine God, and must be destroyed!" The Magos turned to look at Horus and added "My lord Primarch, the mind of the xenos is heretical and unknowable. Their foul technocraft must be purged, lest it pollute the sacred designs of the Machine God."

"The Machine God blesses those with the desire to seek out knowledge, no matter the source" Kaius countered. "Only the narrow-minded would hinder the sacred Quest for Knowledge with a lack of vision."

"Have you gleaned anything useful, brother?" Horus asked, stepping in before Ocayria could speak.

Kaius gestured to the Servitor which still displayed the astral coordinates. "We have. The Eldar strike force originated from this world, fifty parsecs from this system. I deceived their leadership into believing the mission here was a success. They are trapped and vulnerable on that world. The combined forces of three Astartes Legions should be more than sufficient to eliminate them."

Horus nodded as he spoke, staring at the screen intently. Kaius was pleased that a backward-thinking priest like Ocayria did not have ultimate authority here. That resided in his brother, one of the most sensibly minded individuals Kaius had ever known.

"Very well. We shall make arrangements to launch an attack. In the meantime, recall your forces from this vessel and destroy it."

Kaius' superior and enhanced mind suffered from a two second delay as he processed his brother's words. "Destroy it? Surely there is no need; we have it secured, and it does not present a threat to our fleet."

"I meant what I said, Kaius" Horus said, his tone gentle but firm as he placed a hand on Kaius' shoulder.

"Perhaps I can have it disassembled and disperse the pieces throughout my fleet. That would ensure that it is inert and harmless."

"Ocayria is right, brother. Our prerogative is to promote human endeavours, not those of hostile aliens. You've already extracted the information we need, and so there is no need to keep this vessel intact." Kaius furrowed the organic side of his brow, and Horus' expression softened. "I will make this easier for you, and have my ships destroy it. Does that suit you?"

"Yes" Kaius said simply.

"Then it's settled. I'll see you and Russ aboard the _Vengeful Spirit_ in a few hours to plan the attack." With that, Horus and Ocayria exited the bridge, leaving Kaius with Markovius and the Servitors.

"My lord, we cannot let this vessel be destroyed" the Artisan said. "We were taught that all knowledge is sacred, no matter where it originates."

"We have no choice. Record your findings, and recall all personnel back to the _Quest for Knowledge_. This is an unfortunate setback, but we shall have more opportunities. This Eldar 'Craftworld' presents an intriguing target. If it is their base of operations, then the likelihood of finding their most advanced technologies is high."

Markovius bowed his head. "As you say, Scion of the Machine God."

Despite himself, Kaius allowed a miniscule smile on the organic side of his lips.

* * *

Leirdalag stared up at the sky, concern gripping her heart. Oroseth and his strike force were long overdue, and he should have reported any sort of setback. Though the mission to the human worlds was successful, the Autarch suspected their troubles were far from over.

The fact that the Farseers' visions were unable to pierce the turbulent tides of the Warp did nothing to ease her fears.

She turned and stepped over to the other side of the balcony. From here, she had a clear line of sight to most of the Craftworld as her people affected repairs. It had been scarcely sixty years since it had crashed on this dead world, no more than the blink of an eye to the Eldar. Leirdalag remembered the cataclysm that had consumed the heart of their empire; the Warp had torn open a massive rift in space, and the shockwaves had damaged her Craftworld's engines, forcing them to make an emergency landing.

As long as they were trapped on this world, they were vulnerable. And with the majority of the Eldar race consumed by She Who Thirsts, there were too few of them to afford the loss of an entire Craftworld.

The Autarch gripped the railing of her balcony, wringing it with her fingers. She would not let her kin die like vermin in a cage!

Her psychic senses tingled, and she looked up to see the angry red/pink tear of a ship exiting the Warp. "Oroseth, at last!" she said to herself, exhaling with relief. That relief instantly withered and died as a thick, blocky vessel emerged from the tear. It clearly wasn't an Eldar vessel, and only the _Mon-keigh_ would create something so vulgar. Countless dozens of tears appeared in the space around the planet, depositing an entire human armada.

Treachery! Deceit! Somehow, they had recreated Oroseth's voice. But why hadn't she seen it?

No matter. The Eldar would triumph against these savages. "Warriors of Kurnous! The primitives are at our doorstep! Take up your arms, don your armour, and prepare yourselves for battle! The history of our people and our world lies with us, and we shall not see it torn from our grasp! Fight for the fallen!"

* * *

Darius invoked a silent prayer to his wargear as the Stormbird penetrated the planet's thin atmosphere. The First Company of the First Cohort was with him, all 100 Battle-Brothers armed and prepared for the battle ahead.

Lord Caesarius had been perfectly clear: while he and his brother Primarchs led the bulk of their forces against the Eldar host, Darius and elements of the First and Fourth Cohorts were to launch a raid into the xenos craft from the rear. Darius' Primarch desired biological and technological samples to be taken for further study. These Eldar were a highly advanced species, and the sacred Quest for Knowledge demanded that their secrets belong to the Emperor and His Imperium.

" _Darius_ " Lord Caesarius called to him through his Vox-implant. His father's voice sounded different, even when accounting the Vox-grill on his throat; he did not sound strained, but rather focused, as if his enormous, Emperor-given will was entirely dedicated to one purpose, but still had more than enough capacity to communicate with Darius. " _The battle has commenced. Begin the raid._ "

"It shall be done, my lord. We will not fail you." Darius contacted the other two Stormbirds with his Vox-implant. "Strike Force, deploy. For the Primarch! For the Emperor!"

He could feel the Stormbird accelerating, and it was not long before the pilot Voxed " _We have identified a hangar large enough to accommodate us_. _Securing ingress_." The Stormbird shook with the discharge of missiles and its primary autocannon. Darius drew his Plasma Gun, bracing for the approaching battle.

The guns fell silent, and the pilot reported " _Targets eliminated_. _Landing now_."

With a final vibration, the Stormbird stilled.

Darius nodded to Company Alpha Samos, who pressed the button to lower the rear hatch. "Move out!" Darius ordered. He and the other 100 Battle-Brothers filtered out of the Stormbird. The other two transports had landed beside theirs, and were depositing the rest of the Strike Force: a second Company of Astartes led by Daxus Monokar, now interred in the form of a mighty Dreadnought, along with Andion and a contingent of Praetores, and a Maniple of Skitarii led by a Magos of Portentia.

They gathered at the front of their transports, and Darius took a moment to marvel at the xenos craft.

The fleets had scanned it from orbit, estimating its size to be astronomically larger than even the colossal Gloriana-Class Battleships that served as flagships for the Primarchs. Much like the xenos frigate in the Mytos System, this craft had been built using inhuman geometry, the material resembling a sturdy, bleached bone that, if the war construct on Mytos was made of something similar, could regenerate damage. Here, within the craft's hull, gleaming spires speared up high while bulbous domes loomed overhead. This was not merely a void ship, but a mobile city, meant to house an entire people as they traveled through the stars.

And they were trapped, at the mercy of the Emperor's Primarchs and Astartes.

"Hurry, brothers. The xenos will not be able to stand up to the combined might of three Legions. Acquire any xenos tech and individual specimens you can find. Time is of the essence."

They wasted no time in entering the great cityscape, blasting through doors and walls in an effort to discover the Eldar's hidden secrets. Even here, Darius could hear the booming of the battle that raged on the surface of the dead world, mere tens of kilometres from the craft. Most of the Eldar appeared to be gone, likely participating in their home's defense.

Darius and a few squads came to a sealed doorway. The structure was only two storeys tall, and the lack of fortification or unique insignia indicated that it was a personal dwelling. He ordered one of the Squad Sergeants to breach the doorway. The Sergeant smashed his Power Fist into the door, shattering the bone-like material into splinters.

When they entered the dwelling, they found fifteen Eldar, all huddled against the far wall. None of them were armed, and at least half their number were children. They were most likely a family unit.

Darius motioned to the Skitarii Ranger squad with him, and they entered the dwelling, brandishing their Taser Goads. They had configured their weapons to provide the optimal electrical discharge to stun an Eldar individual, using information obtained from captured specimens on Mytos. The Rangers disabled the family, the electricity interspersed with the cries of the children.

The family was bound and taken back to the transports.

Moving on, Darius and his units joined the rest of the Strike Force as they entered what appeared to be an armoured citadel of sorts. The most valuable tech would be there. Inside, they encountered a number of guards, but between their superior firepower and Andion's as-yet unexplained hostile aura, the Strike Force prevailed.

They spread out through the citadel, and Darius, accompanied by Andion, made their way to what must have been an inner sanctum. Upon breaching the door, they found a small, circular chamber that was empty apart from a single occupant. The Eldar appeared to be female, dressed in fine robes and wielding a finely crafted spear. It knelt by the far wall, a hand pressed against a glowing blue vein along the bone-like material.

Darius traced the vein, and others like it, to the ceiling, where they converged before snaking off elsewhere. He remembered seeing similar veins all through the Eldar craft, in the buildings and floors and walls.

The Eldar glared at them, its lips curled in a sneer. "So, it is not enough that you slaughter my kindred, but you dare to ransack our home? You are nothing but animals, slaves to your baser natures!"

"We are the Legiones Astartes" Darius replied firmly. "The Emperor of Mankind has decreed that this galaxy is ours, and no xenos will hinder our path."

The Eldar stood, brandishing her spear. "Impudent wretch! I am a Farseer of Craftworld Kurnous, and I will not—" She suddenly screamed in pure agony as Andion entered the room, stepping close. The 'Farseer', having lost the ability to speak, grunted as it fell to the floor, its spear clanging as it was dropped.

Darius picked up the weapon, examining it with his organic and bionic eyes. It was master-crafted, and his bionic eye registered a latent electromagnetic signature indicating psychic potential. Lord Caesarius would be most intrigued.

His gaze returned to the glowing vein on the wall. Something told him it was important.

"Andion, remove this section of wall" he told the Praetores Prefect. "I believe it warrants close examination."

The massive Prefect smashed the butt of his Thunder Hammer into the wall surrounding the vein. "No, not…the Infinity Circuit!" the Farseer cried. Andion continued, first chipping, then breaking off the section of wall. The vein continued to glow, indicating that whatever powered it was not completely connected to the rest.

Andion left the sanctum with the vein. Darius followed, but stopped as the Farseer spoke. "I see now" it said, drawing his gaze. "The turbulence of the Warp, the ease in which you primitives deceived us…It was all perpetrated by the Architect of Fate."

Could the xenos be referring to the Omnissiah, the Architect of Knowledge? He who had given Kaius' mentor the visions which led to the creation of the Exploratores?

"What do you know of this?" Darius asked, approaching the Farseer.

"I know that your species is doomed, if you have attracted the attention of the Lord of Change" it replied. "Its cunning is endless, its machinations legion. For every move or countermove, its plans are accomplished. Take heed, _Mon-keigh_ , for you are the playthings of powers darker and more ancient than your primitive selves."

Darius received reports from the rest of the Strike Force. Most had accomplished their mission, and were returning to the Stormbirds. Time was critical, as the Legions were approaching the Eldar craft.

The First Captain saw a chain around the Farseer's neck. It contained a large, blue gem, similar to those of the Eldar at Mytos. He tore the chain from its neck, holding it in one hand.

"No! No! I would gladly die for my people, but do not send me to the clutches of She Who Thirsts! Let me die properly, where my spirit can join my ancestors."

Darius regarded it with a cold, unfeeling gaze. "You are now my prisoner. Resist, and I will destroy your Soulstone." Without waiting for a response, he handed his Plasma Gun to one of his Command Squad, then grabbed the Farseer by the throat and dragged her beside him. He kept a closed fist over the Farseer's Soulstone, ready to smash it at the first sign of defiance.

There was none.

Loading everything into the Stormbirds, Darius and the Strike Force departed the Eldar Craft. They witnessed from orbit as the Legions assaulted the Eldar's home, partially buried in the surface of a dead world. Soon after, once the protective barrier was down, the ships in orbit launched a combined barrage on the craft, utterly obliterating it and every last trace of the Eldar.

* * *

Kaius stood within one of the larger laboratories in the _Quest For Knowledge's_ prow, Andion and Darius beside him. Markovius stood off to the side, beginning the work of cataloguing everything.

"You have done well" he told them. "Very well."

"Thank you, my lord" Darius replied. "I live to serve you and the Emperor."

Kaius appraised the treasures his First Captain had acquired from the Eldar vessel, which from interrogations he knew was called a Craftworld. It would take him some time to fully process the weapons and specimens. Daxus had even managed to acquire a handful of small Eldar vehicles.

"These tech and specimens will give us a wealth of knowledge" Markovius said.

"Indeed" Kaius agreed.

"My lord, shall we inform Lord Horus about these spoils?" Darius asked. "Surely he would appreciate the need to apply any advanced understanding towards the betterment of humanity."

Kaius thought the matter over. Horus was reasonable, always presenting a level head in any discussion, especially when Russ was present. However, the incident with the Eldar frigate in the Mytos System was still fresh in Kaius' memory. Horus simply did not understand that knowledge came from an infinite number of sources, not just human endeavour. In time, when he and their Father saw what benefits Kaius would reap for their species, they would understand.

"No. For now, the existence of these spoils will remain within the Legion. I will inform Horus when the time is right."

* * *

Hello, one and all! To celebrate the release of Battlefleet Gothic: Armada II, here's a new chapter of the Prodigal Sons! This rounds out the Mytos Arc, and plants the seeds for future discoveries and conflicts.

Please review/favourite!


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